


Come What May

by VoidRealmer



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, BAMF Harry Potter, Death showed up, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Gay, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, MOD Harry Potter, Magical Bond, Master of Death Harry Potter, Master/Slave, Non-Sexual Slavery, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Canon, Post-Hogwarts, Post-Second War with Voldemort, Right of Conquest, Slave Tom Riddle, Slavery, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, good luck dealing with these two idiots, i have a vague idea where this story is going but not enough to add tags for it, ive been asked to mention:, master!harry, slave!Tom, they might show up again tbh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:47:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 26,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25556098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VoidRealmer/pseuds/VoidRealmer
Summary: After the war, Harry had expected to be done with Voldemort forever. So imagine his surprise when he found out that Riddle enacted the Right of Conquest, becoming Harry's slave forever.. . . . .“Please,” Riddle bowed his head even further, until his unkempt hair was brushing the floor, “Please accept your Right of Conquest over me.” It was obvious he was only barely holding back his anger, hatred, and whatever else, but made no move to take back his words.Harry looked down coldly, leaning back in his chair. “You know, if I agree to this, you’ve got a lot to make up for, and I’ll make sure you pay for every single bit of it.”Riddle’s jaw clenched even tighter, answering through gritting teeth. “I know.”“Well, in that case,” Harry leaned forward, grabbing a tight handful of Riddle’s hair and pulling his head up until he was forced to look into vibrant green eyes, the same shade of the killing curse. “How could I possibly refuse?”
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 70
Kudos: 383





	1. After Death, We'll Meet Again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dragonanzar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonanzar/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Tom may have level 100 intelligence, his wisdom... his wisdom is -4.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOWDY Y'ALL. I'M BACK. And I brought an 11,000+ word chapter for you!!!!!! :D
> 
> Y'all can thank Dragonanzar for this mess, because they are a godsend in human form who wrote me a super long slave!tom fanfic in like, 2 months. It's so long and it's so wonderful and I love every word of it.
> 
> That being said, if anyone else wants to write some slave!Tom fanfic, please send it to me. I asked this in Poetic Justice, and I'll ask it here too. Because I am desperate, even after reading Dragon's fanfic.

_ “Please,” Riddle bowed his head even further, until his unkempt hair was brushing the floor, “Please accept your Right of Conquest over me.” It was obvious he was only barely holding back his anger, hatred, and whatever else, but made no move to take back his words. _

_ Harry looked down coldly, leaning back in his chair. “You know, if I agree to this, you’ve got a  _ **_lot_ ** _ to make up for, and I’ll make sure you pay for every single bit of it.” _

_ Riddle’s jaw clenched even tighter, answering through gritting teeth. “I know.” _

_ “Well, in that case,” Harry leaned forward, grabbing a tight handful of Riddle’s hair and pulling his head up until he was forced to look into vibrant green eyes, the same shade of the killing curse. “How could I possibly refuse?” _

. . . . .

“Mr. Potter, may we come in?” Two aurors, one male with short brown hair and a scar on his left cheek, and a woman with dark brown hair and a stern glare in her eyes, stood in Harry’s doorway.

It took him an embarrassingly long time to even notice the question had been asked, because his attention had been on the man standing behind the aurors, his arms bound tightly behind his back and a collar with a leash attached, the other end in the female auror’s deathgrip.

What in the world was  _ Tom Riddle _ doing at his house???? His extremely warded, hidden, protected house???

Riddle had somehow gotten his good looks back since the final battle, where Harry had accidentally knocked Voldemort unconscious during their duel and decided that he’d rather not kill anyone else, even Voldemort. His hair was jet black, the same shade as Harry’s, and curled at the edges, just as it had been when Harry had seen the diary. He was perhaps in his late teens or early twenties at best, looking that much more mature than the diary had with age.

During his staring, Riddle had frowned and lifted his eyes, meeting Harry’s vivid green with blood red, only to clench his jaw even harder and look away, staring holes in the ground.

“Mr. Potter?” The male auror prompted again when there was a lack of answer.

Harry shook himself out of his stupor, instead deciding to try and focus on the issue at hand. Surely the aurors will bring up  _ why _ exactly Tom Riddle has been brought to his house in chains. Surely they will.

“Uh, sure, yeah, come on in.” He moved to the side to allow the aurors (and Riddle) access to his doorway.

They settled in the living room, Harry on his comfy armchair and the aurors on a larger couch on the other side of a small table to him. Riddle, however, didn’t even try to sit on one of the many pieces of furniture in the room, instead choosing to kneel at the end of the table, an equal space from both the aurors and Harry, without a single bit of prompting from the aurors.

Harry tried to control his staring, instead focusing on the aurors and pretending that Riddle was nothing more than a figment of his imagination for the moment.

“So, what brought this surprise visit on?” Harry asked, as if the reason wasn’t sitting—kneeling—next to them.

“We’re sorry to interrupt your afternoon, Mr. Potter. My name is Auror Kennedy, and this is my partner, Auror Powlett. As you can probably guess, we’re here on official Ministry business,” The male Auror started.

The female, Auror Powlett, spoke up, “Do you recognize this prisoner, by any chance?” She tugged on the leash in her hand, causing Riddle to jerk and choke on the collar around his neck, but he otherwise kept his neutral face and continued staring at the coffee table resolutely.

Harry assumed she was asking if he knew who he really was, and honestly didn’t really know how to respond to that. He watched the scene with horrified fascination. It was.. strange, seeing Riddle on his knees, being pushed around. The words felt thick for some reason,as if stuck in his throat, but he forced them out. “I do.”

“Great, that makes things a lot simpler.” She replied, confirming Harry’s suspicions with a hard-as-steel voice. Harry got the idea that she had a very stern personality and didn’t like to mess around much. Even Auror Kennedy seemed a bit intimidated by her, but looked like he was used to it.

Harry was somehow again grateful he hadn’t decided to become an auror straight after the war, instead taking the time to try and choose a job he’d actually want.

“... Makes  _ what _ simpler?” Harry asked, almost afraid of the answer, and yet.. He could take a guess, and not just based on the current situation.

Auror Kennedy watched Riddle for a few seconds, before making eye contact with Harry. “The prisoner- He’s enacted the Right of Conquest with you. There’s not much we can do about the situation until you decide to accept it or give him back to the Ministry to continue his sentence there.”

“A Right of Conquest? Riddle did?” Harry had no clue what that meant specifically, but it wasn’t hard to reach a conclusion, especially seeing as Riddle was on his knees in a collar with no argument.

“Sure did. Not sure what he was thinking- Right of Conquests are permanent  _ and _ could end up much worse than just carrying out his sentence, but I’m not complaining.” Auror Powlett shrugged. “Either way, he’s not much of a threat anymore—not without his magic, and definitely not with the binding.”

Harry nodded along, pretending he knew exactly what the aurors were talking about, all while silently thanking the man for the details he was apparently already supposed to know. He couldn’t make any sort of decision that the aurors seemed to expect of him until he knew exactly what he was getting into. “I appreciate you taking your time to explain the circumstances to me.”

“It was no trouble at all, Mr. Potter. Just doing our jobs,” Auror Kennedy replied.

“I know this is kind of strange to ask, but..” Harry started, pausing to look as if he were in thought, or perhaps even hesitant, “Would you mind giving me a few minutes alone with him? You know, so I know exactly what to expect if I accept or not?”

Auror Powlett handed the leash over easily, until Harry was holding onto the other end of the chain. “Of course, Mr. Potter. Take your time, and..” She paused, taking on a bit of a malicious smile—one of the first emotions he’s actually seen from her since she’s arrived. “Don’t hold back.”

Harry had a feeling he knew what she meant by that, and did not like it one bit.  (especially since he’s been on the other end-) He continued playing his part though, knowing that would be the easiest way to get this situation under control and fastest way to get through it, hopefully.

He tugged lightly on the leash, watching Riddle scramble to get up to follow him as Harry led them through the house, far enough away where the aurors won’t be able to hear much of anything, even if they did somehow take down Harry’s wards. Eventually, they ended up in Harry’s study, the room he used for doing paperwork and keeping private conversations private.

Shutting the door behind them and locking it with magic, then casting several layers of silencing spells, Harry finally dropped the leash and sat down in his chair. He faced towards Riddle, who had assumed a kneeling position on the floor in front of Harry and was glaring holes in the ground under Harry’s feet. 

“So, Riddle,” Harry crossed his leg, looking down on the man on the floor. “What. Did. You.  _ Do. _ ”

Riddle’s teeth clenched together and he flexed his fingers, still bound together tightly behind his back. For a little while, there was only silence, but eventually Riddle answered in a soft tone, a direct contrast to how Harry imagined he was actually feeling. “Like the aurors said, I enacted the Right of Conquest you have over me.”

Ah, so everyone was expecting that he knew what that was. “And what exactly does that mean?” Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

“It means- You do not know? Truly?” Riddle started, then paused as he realised the meaning of Harry’s words, meeting Harry’s eyes once again. His tone was of genuine surprise, which was the only reason Harry didn’t think this was some sort of manipulation right off the bat.

“Not a single thing. Now,  _ explain,” _ Harry demanded.

Riddle resumed his explanation, casting his gaze elsewhere, “The Right of Conquest- You.. In every duel we have had, you have bested me, one way or another, even to the point of death. The Right of Conquest recognizes that fact, which allows for me to enact it, binding myself irreversibly to you.”

“To me  _ how?” _

“The.. relationship can be compared to slavery, in a manner of speaking. You would have full control over my magic, my mind—my entire being, so to speak. You could.. enforce your will upon me, make sure that I have no choice but to obey. I would legally be your property, and yours alone, to do what you please with.” Riddle explained, regaining some anger in his eyes, but Harry mostly just thought he looked.. tired. 

In Harry’s opinion, he truly didn’t believe this was some sort of manipulation from Riddle. The man looked too exhausted, both mentally and physically, not to mention covered in bruises and much too thin to be healthy. Along with the fact Riddle was willingly on his knees with his hands bound behind his back, a collar attached to his neck, and had apparently enacted a  _ slave bond _ with  _ Harry. _

However, that didn’t mean Harry couldn’t test him. Perhaps Riddle’s intentions are truthful, that he actually enacted the Right of Conquest knowing what could possibly happen, but.. Perhaps he’s only under the illusion that Harry would accept and have too high of morals to actually treat him badly—is only using Harry as a way to get out of his sentence, because he believes Harry wouldn’t hurt him, wouldn’t treat him slave-like, and he could regain control through manipulations and whatnot.

And Harry would  _ not _ let that happen.

“Are you trying to tell me that  _ you _ enacted a  _ slave bond _ with  _ me?” _ Honestly, it was kind of hard to believe that Voldemort would ever bow down to his mortal nemesis of his own choice. “The big bad Dark Lord willingly acting like a good little slave to  _ Harry Potter?” _

Riddle didn’t answer, jaw clenched together so tight it was a wonder Harry couldn’t hear his teeth grinding.

“Hmm, I’m not sure if I’m really convinced,” Harry drawled on in a mocking tone. “Perhaps you can find a way to convince me? I mean, you’re already on your knees, might as well beg while you’re down there.”

If there was ever a time that Riddle would snap, it would probably be now, Harry mused. And yet-

“Please,” Riddle bowed his head even further, until his unkempt hair was brushing the floor, “Please accept your Right of Conquest over me.” It was obvious he was only barely holding back his anger, hatred, and whatever else, but made no move to take back his words.

Harry looked down coldly, leaning back in his chair. “You know, if I agree to this, you’ve got a  _ lot _ to make up for, and I’ll make sure you pay for every single bit of it.”

Riddle’s jaw clenched even tighter, answering through gritting teeth. “I know.”

“Well, in that case,” Harry leaned forward, grabbing a tight handful of Riddle’s hair and pulling his head up until he was forced to look into vibrant green eyes, the same shade as the killing curse. “How could I possibly refuse?”

So, Harry was officially impressed. If Riddle could keep his anger in check after Harry had demanded he  _ begged _ to be made a  _ slave _ , then he must truly mean it. Must honestly want this bond for some reason, for Harry to accept the Right of Conquest over him, even if it meant Harry would hurt him for everything that happened while he was Voldemort.

Harry released his grasp on Riddle’s hair, who immediately slumped forward and didn’t bother looking up again.

“I will be asking you a  _ lot _ more questions later, but for now.. I will only ask this,” Harry began, trying to push down the headache he could feel coming. “Why me? Why do any of this?”

There was silence for a long time. During this time, Riddle didn’t look up from his spot on the floor, and it seemed that the rest of his anger had all faded into nothing but tired acceptance.

“It’s.. always been us. It’s always been Voldemort against Harry Potter—the Dark Lord and the Boy-Who-Lived. One way or another, whether through choice or fate, we were always brought together, again and again and  _ again,”  _ Riddle voiced. “I just.. thought I’d continue the pattern.”

Harry stared for a moment, the room in perfect silence. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting Riddle’s thought process to look like, but it sure wasn’t  _ that. _

Just as Harry is about to talk, to move the conversation on from it’s uncomfortable stop, Riddle speaks once more, his voice nothing more than a whisper almost too quiet for Harry to hear.

“If anyone deserves me kneeling at their feet, it would be you.”

Oh.

So that’s why Riddle didn’t seem to care how bad Harry would supposedly treat him. At least, being bound to Harry, Riddle would know that he  _ deserved it. _ No trying to guess what he did wrong this time at the hands of the Ministry; with Harry, it wouldn’t even matter. At least he’d know  _ why _ he was being punished.

There was no possible way Harry could refuse the bond after learning that (not that he was going to).

Instead of accepting that as it was, though, Harry only raised an eyebrow, looking unamused and sounding distant. “You  _ really _ think I believe that?”

“.. what?” It came out in a tiny whisper, like Riddle hadn’t meant for the word to slip out. He flexed his hands for a second, before they tightened into fists, while he even dared to meet Harry’s eyes in genuine confusion.

“You’re doing this to, oh, I don’t know..” Harry mockingly pretended to think. “Spite the Ministry? They tried to force you to your knees, so you’re going to spite them by issuing the bond and then kneeling “willingly” to your enemy. I know how this goes—you pretend to be all submissive while they’re here, just to act up afterwards, now that you’re with someone who doesn’t know what they’re getting into. Maybe not at first, but eventually you’ll get comfortable with your apparent safety and then you’ll try to test limits, try to find the loopholes to every word. You’ll try to spite the Ministry by escaping from their regulations and rules without them even knowing, which happens to be under  _ my _ rule. You can’t fool me by acting  _ innocent. _ Not you.”

Harry knows how that tune goes far too well, having danced to it his whole life with people none the wiser.

Riddle tried to deny the claim, gaining a panicked edge to his voice that Harry noted carefully. “No- I’m not this because of  _ spite! _ \- I will not act out-”

“Oh? What are you doing right now?” Harry interrupted, cutting Riddle’s tangent off before it’d even really started.

Riddle’s mouth snapped shut. He immediately looked down, hands shaking behind his back.

Harry sighed, ignoring the flinch when he pat Riddle’s hair twice. “Luckily for you, it takes a lot more than spite for the Ministry and a couple loud words to upset me. But, I want to know if there’s any truth to my statement. What’s your real reason for calling upon the bond?”

Riddle shut his eyes, taking a couple deep—shaky—breaths. “.. I- I truly do mean that I called upon the bond because.. of who we are, and what I’ve done.”

_ ‘Ah, that’d be the guilt,’ _ Harry thought before he could stop himself. At least he didn’t say it out loud; that would be a recipe for disaster, especially right now.

“But.. I- You may have been correct in your guess if- if only partially. I- There’s nothing I want more than to pay the Ministry back for what they’ve done, and.. This felt like a compromise that they couldn’t ignore. One of the only choices that I could still make that would have an impact—something they couldn’t take away,” Riddle admitted.

That felt like a much more honest answer than his previous answer, and Harry accepted it with a nod.

“Well, now for the fun part,” Harry grinned, though it faltered. Now he has to convince the Aurors that he’s accepting the bond and that Riddle belongs to him, though he somehow doubted that was the answer they were hoping for. With the bond in place—Riddle’s magic and will bound—, Harry bet that they would have had a blast trying to turn Riddle into a slave for themselves. They were probably hoping that the golden boy-who-lived would be too morally upright to ever accept a  _ slave _ , when he could have easily just left it in the capable Ministry’s hand to finish his life-long sentence.

Too bad Harry isn’t as against slavery as they thought.

Below him, Riddle paled.

“As you wish,” he murmured, his voice barely even audible and eyes squeezed closed for a second. And then Harry watched him shuffle closer and start trying to unzip Harry’s pants with nothing but his mouth, as his trembling hands were still bound behind his back.

It took Harry an embarrassingly long time to realize what Riddle was trying to do, and the second it clicked, he shoved the kneeling man off with more force than was probably necessary and brought his knees up to his chest. Harry was pretty sure he looked absolutely horrified, but nothing compared to the look Riddle had.

He looked like he’d been slapped, until what happened comprehended in his mind. Riddle turned as white as a sheet, and the trembling was now going through his whole body. He refused to meet Harry’s eyes, instead looking at the ground in front of him. “Sorry- I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you’d be disgusted by me—I’d just assumed.. I should have known-”

“Woah, woah, stop stop  _ stop.”  _ Harry cut Riddle off before things got even worse. Riddle snapped his jaw shut immediately. “You said you’d ‘just assumed’, meaning you have experience with people wanting that,” Harry deduced, squinting at the kneeling man.

Riddle immediately denied it. “No, I- There’s no experience. I’ve not had any problems with..  _ That. _ I apologize for assuming-”

Harry doubted that was the case, but didn’t call Riddle out on his lies. Not for the moment, at least, when they had much different things to worry about.

“By  _ ‘fun’ _ , I’d meant getting to convince the Ministry to let me keep you. I can already tell that it’s going to be a pain, because now that you’ve enacted the bond, it just became so much easier to control you,” Harry sighed. “And we both know the Ministry would love nothing more than having a way to have you completely under their control.”

“.. I would not break easily for them. My loyalty is to you, and you alone.”

If it weren’t Tom Riddle saying that while on his knees and trying to convince (manipulate) Harry into accepting a slave bond, Harry would feel oddly touched.

Oh, who’s he kidding. Harry is absolutely somehow touched by that.

“But eventually, you would. They would not relent in their pursuit, and you’re their least favorite person in existence. Other than me, of course, but only every other week. You know, when the tabloids need new material to post and decide that I’ve both married and divorced Neville within the same week,” Harry shrugged. “But back to the point—I need you to play your part, and that probably means that I’ve been doing more than just talking to you in here. We can discuss actual rules and whatnot later, but for now, I’ll leave you to do your thing. Can I trust you with that?”

“I will- I will act my part. I know my place, you do not need to worry,” Riddle answered.

Harry didn’t like how all the fight had seemed to leave Riddle. Sure, he doesn’t want to deal with another megalomaniac Dark Lord trying to murder literally everyone he knows again, but.. It was strange, seeing someone he’d thought of as an unwavering strength just.. on his knees, accepting all this.

Voldemort had always been Harry’s constant in life, since even before he’d been  _ born. _ And now, Voldemort was no more, replaced by a Tom Riddle who would rather bend to Harry’s will than keep his anger and powerful stance in life.

Of course, Riddle would have been broken by the Ministry eventually—it was inevitable, and Riddle had probably noticed that, and used it as a deciding factor for choosing to enact the bond. But.. It wouldn’t have been for  _ years _ , Harry would think. Riddle’s mind had always been his strongest asset (though the same couldn’t be said for Voldemort) and Harry thought it would have taken much more than a few bruises to drive him to the point of calling upon a  _ slave bond  _ with  _ Harry Potter. _

It was just.. strange to think about. Worrisome, even. What is Tom Riddle,  _ Voldemort _ , without some plan for the world—without his goals and ambitions in life that had made him so terrifying.

Surely Riddle must still have a goal to reach, but Harry was not going to figure it out any time soon. They’ll both play their parts—of slave and master—and figure out things as they go along.

Harry shook himself out of his thoughts, finally standing up from the chair. He grabbed the end of the leash, more for show than leading Riddle somewhere. “Well, here we go.”

Riddle didn’t respond, keeping his eyes downcast the entire walk back into the room with the aurors. How long had they been gone..? It couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes, maybe twenty at most.

Sure enough, the aurors were both sitting on the couch, chatting quietly between themselves. When they saw Harry, it quieted to a stop, watching with curiosity as he brought Riddle back, looking no different from when they had left.

This time, though, when Harry sat back down in his armchair, Riddle chose to kneel by his feet instead of an equal distance away from both the aurors and Harry. Deciding to throw himself into his role as an ex-dark-lord-turned-slave’s master, Harry slowly combed his fingers through Riddle’s hair, noticing with some interest that Riddle leaned into the touch, and that his hair was  _ extraordinarily  _ soft. Harry could get used to this-

“How did you like the experience, Mr. Potter? Was it to your satisfaction?” Auror Kennedy asked.

“Oh, yes. I had a  _ lot _ of fun myself,” Harry replied with a smile, and that part wasn’t even a lie. He  _ did _ have fun making Riddle beg.

“You got lucky there, Mr. Potter. Johnson almost got his dick bit off last time he tried,” Auror Powlett said, as if there weren’t multiple things wrong with that sentence.

Harry had known that Riddle was lying about not having trouble with  _ that _ , but he hadn’t expected the aurors to outright say it. Being caught in his lie from earlier, Riddle had tensed, but Harry never stopped petting Riddle’s hair. He took a deep breath and forced himself to keep up the act. It would all be over soon.

“We didn’t have any problems like that, did we, pet?”

Calling Voldemort “pet” has to be on Harry’s top three most weird situations, but  _ if the situation calls for it- _

“No, Master,” Riddle whispered, just loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. Harry almost had to do a double-take, thinking he heard wrong for a moment. Huh, Riddle plays his part  _ well. _

And suddenly, the aurors looked rather impressed with Harry. “Well, in fifteen minutes you’ve somehow gotten farther than we ever have with him. Refused to address anyone as  _ ‘sir’ _ , much less  _ ‘master’ _ , no matter what we did,” Auror Kennedy explained, running a hand through his hair.

Harry smirked, though it felt far too fake. “Well, I’m not the Boy-Who-Conquered for no reason.”

The aurors laughed.

“Back to the main topic,” Harry interrupted, really not in the mood to deal with appeasing anybody from the Ministry right now. “I’m keeping him. Thank you for bringing my new slave over, and I’m sure we’ll have  _ lots _ of fun in the near future, if you know what I mean.”

Their laughs broke off, and Kennedy and Powlett suddenly looked a bit more concerned for Harry, though Harry couldn’t ever possibly guess  _ why. _

“Are you sure, Mr. Potter? Having a slave is a big responsibility, and.. him especially.. It won’t be easy.” Auror Kennedy tried. “This could all be some big ploy to drive the Wizarding World back into chaos.”

Harry was sure Riddle had some sort of plot or manipulations he was waiting to try, but he wasn’t going to tell the aurors that.

“Thank you for your concern, but I’ve already made up my mind.”

Auror Powlett looked disapproving. “We’d rather not have you be responsible for starting a war-”

“I’m responsible for  _ ending the last one!” _ Harry’s scathing tone was fueled by his lack of patience to deal with any of this, despite the fact he’d known this was coming.

Auror Powlett ignored his words. “And the Ministry is the safest place to keep a.. Prisoner of his caliber. There would always be at least two guards watching, not to mention everything is lined with special runes to keep everything under control. It is the best place for the prisoner to undergo his sentence.”

“And you think I believe that?” Harry asked before he could stop himself. “Now that the Right of Conquest has been enacted, am I to believe you wouldn’t want me to transfer control to someone else so you all can turn him into a slave yourselves?”

“Mr. Potter, please be reasonable-” Kennedy started.

“You brought him over to my house for me to decide whether I wanted a slave or not. I’ve decided I want one,” Harry made his point as clear as possible. “And, you know, out of everyone in the entire Wizarding World, don’t you think I deserve this? To have my parent’s  _ murderer  _ as my own personal slave? Do I need to list out how many of my friends and family have died? Or count how many years I spent knowing that every single adult had put every ounce of their faith in a  _ baby? _ A child who knew no magic, compared to people like, let’s say.. Dumbledore!, who was not only older and more experienced, but had both defeated another Dark Lord  _ and  _ had been Voldemort’s teacher in school.”

During his rant, Harry had gripped Riddle’s hair tight enough to cause a pained expression to cover his face, but he hadn’t made a sound. Harry, upon noticing, immediately released his hold and muttered a low “Sorry,” just loud enough for Riddle to hear, and went back to petting his hair slowly.

“Mr. Potter-”

“Give me one good reason, other than ‘he’s in better hands’, that I shouldn’t accept. Riddle enacted the bond, I’ve accepted, and I’m  _ more _ than capable of dealing with him, unlike the Ministry had been after the Triwizard Tournament. You know, when I told you all that he’s back and you called me a liar,” Harry retorted.

“The Ministry is willing to pay you to part with your slave, even if not permanently—such as a couple days of the week. We believe he still has information on rogue Death Eaters that have escaped the law, and what better way to learn than through their leader?” Auror Powlett compromised.

Harry pretended to think the offer over, humming in thought. But every second he didn’t answer, Riddle slowly grew more and more tense beneath him, his hands clenched into tight fists behind him.

Deciding he’s had enough of the Ministry’s shenanigans for one day, Harry replies bluntly, “He’s not for sale.”

A shudder of relief went through Riddle’s body. Harry could feel him lose the tension in his shoulders, but it was impossible to tell from an outside perspective.

“We’d ask you to reconsider,” Auror Kennedy sighed, “but I doubt you’ll change your mind any time soon. Instead, I can offer that any time you don’t want to deal with your slave for an afternoon or weekend, or decide you want to rid yourself of him permanently, or just decide to take us up on our offer, feel free to let us know. There’s no time limit on our request.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.” Yeah right, Harry was going to forget it within the next two days  _ at most. _

Not long after that, with the aurors looking a bit more frustrated than when they’d arrived, Harry was finally able to get them to leave and agree that they won’t come back without Harry’s permission. Now to see if they actually keep that promise.

Harry fell back into his chair with an exaggerated sigh. “Merlin, I absolutely hate the Ministry. I swear I told Kingley to keep my house  _ hidden.  _ Why couldn’t they have just sent me a letter asking me to come to them?? That would have made so much more sense. But no, wizards seem to be lacking in the common sense area.”

Riddle didn’t respond, still kneeling in front of Harry’s chair and keeping his head downcast. His hands were still bound tightly behind his back, and the leash and collar were still connected.

“Suppose it’s just you and me now. Come on, let’s get this stuff off of you.” Harry slid down to the ground level from his chair, watching as Riddle glanced his way in utter confusion and then looked away.

Harry did away with the leash first, unclipping it and pushing it to the side. Next, he shifted around so he could work with the chains on his arms, very glad he could use magic suddenly, seeing as the aurors hadn’t given him any sort of key to unlock anything with.

With a couple soft murmurs of spells, the chains unwound and dropped to the floor, letting Riddle move his arms for the first time in who knows how long. They were probably really sore, after being stuck in such an uncomfortable position for so long, but Riddle only put them in his lap, waiting for Harry’s next move.

All that was left now was the collar, which looked to be nothing more than a band of metal, in Harry’s opinion. A few more quiet spells, and the collar was unlatching from an invisible seam. Harry tossed the chains and collar aside, towards where the leash was laying in a pile.

“Looks like we’re stuck with each other from now on,” Harry stated, standing up to sit back down in his chair. “To be honest.. I still don’t see why you chose  _ me _ . The prophecy was fulfilled at best, fake at worst, and I honestly didn’t do much to end the war.” Harry shrugged. “I just got lucky, really.”

Riddle’s carefully neutral face broke into something both confused and wary, but also borderline irate.

“It’s like I told Hagrid when I was 11. I’m just Harry. Not anyone special like you all seem to think—I was only special in the first place because of a choice that  _ you _ had made, so.. I’m not really sure what you expect from me, nor what you’re trying to gain from being here. Perhaps it is just to avoid carrying out your sentence in the Ministry, which I don’t fault you for, but then again, I’m not sure if I believe that you don’t have some sort of plot or manipulation hidden up your sleeve.”

Riddle looked torn between saying something and staying silent, as if not to upset Harry, looking oddly upset himself. His eyebrows were furrowed and his mouth had the beginning of a frown forming.

“You can speak your mind. At least, for right now,” Harry specified, wondering what was going to happen now, now that he’s given his new slave the means to disrespect him.

“Why do you have no confidence in yourself?” Riddle spat, and Harry was taken back by the angry tone that had been.. In his defense?

That had not been what he was expecting.

“I’m just.. Not as special as you all make me out to be. I’m just Harry,” he repeated, wondering why Riddle seemed to be arguing in defense of  _ Harry. _

“Do you  _ really think _ that I’d give myself to someone I thought  _ mundane?  _ That I’d just give my free will over to someone who hasn’t earned my  _ respect _ , if nothing else?”

“What  _ I think _ ,” Harry began, “is that you don’t have a choice in the matter. Not anymore. So it doesn’t matter if you respect me or think I’m mundane or not, because  _ you  _ enacted the Right of Conquest with  _ me _ , and now you have to deal with the consequences of your actions. You’re nothing more than my slave now, and my word is your law.  _ That’s _ what I think.”

Riddle clicked his tongue and glared at the ground, his hands balling into fists in his lap. “.. And what will happen with me now,  _ master?” _

“That’s up for me to decide, isn’t it?” Harry asked rhetorically. “But right now? We’re going to talk.”

“.. About what..?” Riddle was back to the wary tone.

“A bunch of things, really. But first,” Harry paused, giving Riddle a pointed look. “Your name.”

Riddle blanched, but didn’t respond.

“I’m pretty sure, seeing as you’re now my property, that I am allowed to name you whatever I want,” Harry smirked.

“.. You would be correct,” Riddle agreed hesitantly. “And what would you have me named, master?”

He’d said that ‘master’ completely serious. At first, Harry had assumed that was because he was fulfilling his role to get the aurors out of his house, and the second time had been said sarcastically, but.. Merlin, Riddle was completely serious about this whole ordeal.

Harry ignored that for the moment, pretending to ponder over a name, like he hadn’t already decided a while ago. “Hmm.. You know, I’ve always been partial to the name ‘Tom’.”

Riddle winced, but didn’t argue.

“Actually, I met this really wonderful wizard named Tom, once. He was easily the most brilliant person I’d ever met, able to charm anybody and everybody with his charisma and natural talent, not to mention his good looks. We were.. actually really similar, him and I. Both raised by muggles, abused in our own ways, and abandoned by the world when we needed it most. I like to think that.. If our situations had been different, if he hadn’t used his skills for bad, or even if I’d turned dark myself, that.. We could’ve been friends. I think I would’ve liked being friends with him,” Harry smiled, though it didn’t really feel like one--the undertone of sadness just a bit too strong. He moved on, “I’m not naming you after your father, nor any other ‘Tom’ you may have met. Just that one.”

“.. You would name me after Tom Marvolo Riddle?” Riddle kept fidgeting with his hands, still in his lap, and, unlike only a moment ago, now he sounded confused, wary, bewildered, and even.. Half awed? Along with too many emotions for Harry to even begin deciphering them.

“You may not like the name because you compare it to other people, but I only ever knew one ‘Tom’ my entire life, and  _ that _ is who I’m naming you after,” Harry explained.

(Harry wouldn’t learn this till much later, months down the line, but he’d somehow almost completely wiped Riddle’s—Tom’s—hatred of his name. A name that he’d hated so much for all of his life, simply because it wasn’t even  _ his. _ ‘Tom’ had only ever been his blasted  _ father’s _ name, until suddenly, it wasn’t. Suddenly, it was just Tom’s name.

Harry had somehow wiped out such an integral part of Tom—something that had been plaguing him since birth—in less than ten minutes.

No matter Tom’s feelings, however, that did not stop the rest of the ‘talk’ from happening, which was decidedly less of a monumental moment.)

“Second of all,” Harry continued, bringing Tom out of his stupor to again focus on his master, who was speaking much less favorable words. “I  _ will _ be giving you rules and orders, and I expect you to follow them. You said, earlier, that I could ‘enforce my will upon you’ or something of the sort?”

Sickening dread pooled in Tom’s stomach, but he answered anyway, “Yes, master. If you do, it would- It would be impossible for me to disobey.”

Harry watched Tom pale, obviously assuming the worst, now that Harry knew he could do that. Riddle’s reaction had made Harry’s decision for him.

“I will not use it, unless I feel it is necessary. In return, I expect you to obey as if I  _ had _ used it. Does that seem fair?” Harry asked.

Tom nodded, “Yes, master.”

_ “However, _ with the choice of obeying, it also gives you the choice to  _ disobey,”  _ Harry points out. “And with disobeying comes a punishment.”

As long as Harry doesn’t use his power over Tom to give orders, Tom would continue testing boundaries, seeing how far he can get away with anything and everything, and Harry would have to impose how far he’s willing to let Riddle go before it deserves a punishment.

“What those punishments will be, though, will depend on you, and what you’ve done to warrant one. I like to think I’m not a naturally cruel person, and I know you’ll be testing your limits out until you find a good balance, but do not test my kindness. I will not hesitate to punish you if I feel I need to, and you will not like it.”

“I understand, master.”

Well, at least Tom knows that there’ll be consequences for his actions. “Alright, next I’m going to give you some long-standing rules. You  _ will _ obey them, whether it’s a day down the line or thirteen years.” Harry paused for a moment, trying to find the best way to word some, and trying to think of any he may have missed. “Rule number one, you  _ will not _ lie to me.”

Riddle tensed immediately, because he’d already been caught in a lie only a few minutes ago.

Harry sighed. “I will not punish you for that one, because to be honest, I’d already suspected that you’d lied about it. Plus, I hadn’t actually enforced any rules yet, and that one.. I understand  _ why _ you did. So you can call that one your one-time warning. You will not get a second one.”

“Yes, master.” Riddle was obviously trying to calm himself down, or to at least pretend he was calm, but it wasn’t working as well as he probably wanted it to.

“I have been lied to about  _ everything _ my whole life, and I will not take it from you. I don’t care if you lie to other people, even my friends—as long as you don’t get caught, that is—, but not to me. I count partial truths as lies, as well, and will not stand for being manipulated either. You brought this bond upon yourself—the least you can do is deal with the consequences of your actions.”

“I’m- I’m sorry for lying earlier, master. I did not- I didn’t want you to think me.. useless,” Riddle concluded, though it had seemed like he’d wanted to use a different word.

_ “.. used. Broken.” _

“Rule number two, and this one is more for me, to be honest,” Harry continued, wondering if Tom’s knees were getting sore from kneeling so tensely for so long. “I  _ will not _ sexually use, or abuse, you. If you ever feel that I’m pushing too much into that territory, you are to tell me  _ immediately _ , and I will stop.  _ However _ , you may not use that excuse to get out of something you don’t want to do, even other punishments.”

Tom only looks too confused at that, as if he’d expected that to be one of Harry’s main reasons for keeping him. And Harry hates the Ministry all the more for it.

“Rule three: you are not to use magic without my  _ explicit _ permission. I understand the bond has already taken care of that rule, and I’m not inclined to change it any time soon,” Harry explained. “The  _ only _ exception to that rule is if you believe that yours or my life is in imminent danger and are using it to protect said life. Afterwards, you will explain to me  _ why _ you felt the need to use it, and what you did to protect yourself or me. You may  _ not _ create these scenarios yourself—they must be completely accidental or from an outside source other than yourself.”

Perhaps Harry was being too specific, but this was  _ Tom Riddle _ , so Harry felt that his apprehension was well-deserved.

“Rule four, as you are my slave now, out of your own doing, you will treat me as your master. You are no longer Voldemort, nor will you ever be him again. With this bond, you are my slave and I am your master, and I expected to be treated as such. Keep addressing me correctly and doing what you’ve been doing, and we’ll be fine. You’ve been a problem for me for most of my life, and you will  _ not _ be one now,” Harry declared.

Riddle—Tom—shifted minutely, answering with a small voice. “Yes, master.”

Harry paused for a minute. “Hmm, those are all I can think of at the moment, though do not doubt that I can change or add more at any point. Now, for some questions. First, and perhaps the biggest question, is it possible to reverse the Right of Conquest in any way? Do I need to worry about you trying to escape constantly?”

Tom flinched, replying with a faster tone than necessary. “No, master—the bond is irreversible. There is no known way out, and I will not look for one, if I even thought it possible. There is- There is no reverse.”

Harry wondered if he should believe Tom immediately, or perhaps make sure he’s not lying. This would be a  _ very bad _ thing for Tom to lie about, mostly for Harry.

Oh, maybe that’s a good idea for a first order. Which Harry will deal with after the conversation.

“Alright, now.. Why do you have your looks back?” Harry asked.

A pause. Then two, as Tom tried to figure out how to answer, stumbling over his words in the process, slowly growing a bit panicked. “I, uh, I- I don’t know? They were just- I assume the—my—horcruxes had something to do with it? I’m- I’m sorry, master.”

Harry crossed his arms. “I don’t care if you don’t know the answer, I was just wondering if you  _ did _ know. Saying “I don’t know” is a much better option than lying, I’d say.”

Truly, Harry had his own theories on what all happened, but he’ll keep them to himself for now.

“This next question, well..” Harry decided to be blunt and just come out and say it. “Did you know I was a horcrux?”

“What?!” Tom snapped his head up to meet Harry’s eyes, only to seemingly realize what he’d done and averted his gaze. “I- Sorry, master.. I- No, I didn’t know. But.. um, may I ask a question..?”

“You just did,” Harry joked, then regretted it when Tom lowered his head and started trembling, an apology on his lips. “I was joking, ask your question.”

“.. Did.. Did you die? To get rid of the horcrux? I  _ swear _ you were dead that one time, I just  _ know  _ it,” Tom declared with more confidence than he’s had this entire conversation.

“.. I did,” Harry agreed. “.. I don’t think I was meant to come back, but.. I met Death in limbo, and your horcrux, and it was the ugliest thing—a baby under a bench crying, looking like an unwrapped mummy that had long since decayed—and Death said to leave it alone, and I really wanted to, you know? But.. I’ve been that kid, and I can’t just.. Wish that fate on anybody, even Voldemort, so I grabbed it and comforted it for a few minutes, until it was able to stop crying and fell asleep, and then I woke up, like I’d never been dead.” Harry shrugged, as if none of that was any kind of big deal.

_ “That was real?!” _ Tom exclaimed.

“Wait, what?” Harry asked. Tom had memories of being in limbo??

Tom explained, “I have- I have memories from some of my horcruxes. Most of them.. don’t really make sense, and they appear randomly, but.. I remember white, and.. being in pain. I- I remember feeling the warmth of somebody’s skin, of being held, but.. I didn’t think much of it..”

“Yeah, that’d be limbo. Now let’s just hope that neither of us have to go back,” Harry joked. “Now, one last question. Do  _ you _ have any questions?”

There was a short pause, while Tom realized what Harry had asked, and then going through the process of believing he heard correctly, and then how to word his question.

“.. How- Why does it seem like you knew this was going to happen? Or that- You seem to be unsurprised by.. My appearance here. Did you- know? Master?” Tom questioned, actually avoiding the main question he’d wanted to ask.

_ Why does it seem like the light side’s golden child is perfectly okay with the idea of slavery? _

“I mean.. I wouldn’t say I  _ knew _ , but.. There’s been rumors. I’ve got my own spies in the Ministry, and.. We knew something like this was going to happen, though not the bond. I’m- I’m not eleven anymore. I’ve killed,  _ I’ve been killed _ , and.. I’m done having people hide things and make decisions for me. Perhaps.. I’m not okay with slavery in general, but.. I know for a fact that you  _ do _ deserve it. And therefore I’m not going to argue against it, especially seeing as  _ you _ did it to yourself,” Harry explained. “I don’t approve of what the Ministry was doing, and I don’t blame you for trying to find a way out, but.. You had no way of knowing what it would be like with me—whether I was the light side’s golden child like you thought or.. Someone who’s not. And really? I don’t think I’m either. I’m okay with the idea only because I know you and what you’ve done, and therefore your sentence can be justified. You tried to enslave the wizarding world, and thus got enslaved yourself. It’s just.. Kinda ironic, to me. But it also was.. predictable.”

Whatever Tom thought about that spiel of words, he didn’t bother sharing it. The silence stretched out for a minute, during that time Harry noticed how Tom seemed to sway in exhaustion, and just how haggard he really looked.

“Any more questions?”

“.. No, master.”

Harry leaned down and pet through Tom’s hair for a moment, who again leaned into the touch without even seeming to notice. He nudged the kneeling man to get up, shuffling out of his chair himself. “Come on, let’s go to the kitchen. When’s the last time you’ve eaten?”

Tom followed behind quietly, sounding just as tired as he looked. “.. Three days ago, I believe, master. They were.. Unable to feed me after I enacted the bond. The master’s permission is needed to eat, as another deterrent for the slave against acting out.”

“That’s.. Not good,” Harry finished lamely, not really sure what to say to that. They entered the kitchen, a quaint room with a mix between muggle and magical means of cooking. “Go sit at the table.” Harry gestured to the small table with a couple chairs off to the side. If they were having more people over, he’d go eat in the dining room, but Harry saw no point to that now.

Harry turned towards the fridge, grabbing out a couple different ingredients for a quick meal. He started preparing some sandwiches, feeling they’re a pretty safe option, no matter how picky Tom turned out to be, then decided Tom doesn’t really have any room to be picky right now.

“Here-” He turned around to set the plate on the table, pausing when he noticed Tom kneeling by a chair instead of sitting  _ in _ it. “The  _ chair,  _ Tom. Sit in the  _ chair _ , please.”

Tom flushed red, but obediently slid slowly into the chair. He put his hands in his lap, even after Harry put the plate down between them and started munching on his own sandwich.

“.. Are you not going to eat?” Harry eventually asked, after he’d taken three bites without Tom reaching for one.

“.. You.. did not give permission, master,” Tom answered, staring at the food.

Harry raised an eyebrow. “You  _ really think _ I’d make food right in front of you, after asking you when you’d last eaten, and then not let you have any?”

Tom hesitantly answered, sounding like he’d much rather not. “.. The.. Ministry would.. do something similar. They would.. place food, just out of reach, and wait for me to get hungry enough to beg- ask, or would feed me scraps if I pleased them.”

Harry doesn’t like that Tom had so readily compared him to the Ministry, but he doesn’t like learning what the Ministry had done even more. He buried his face in his hands, groaning.

He pushed the entire plate towards Tom, sighing in exasperation. “Just eat.”

Tom looked like that was both the first and last thing he wanted to do, his hunger warring with the more rational side of his brain—the one telling him that this was another trick, that he was going to regret ever thinking differently. But, eventually, he did hesitantly grab one, keeping a careful eye on Harry the entire time, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Harry pretended not to notice the looks, reaching towards the plate for another himself.

Eventually, the number of sandwiches diminished to none, disappearing a lot quicker once Tom had worked up the courage to eat without second-guessing every bite. Harry vanished the plate into the sink without a second though about the action, not realizing Tom had noticed what an incredible amount of power that would have taken—to do advanced magic so easily, without a wand nor words, especially without even  _ thinking _ about it.

“Alright, time to get you situated, I guess.” Harry stretched, then stood up. He gestured for Tom to follow, who trailed along behind him through the house.

After the war, Harry had decided he’d rather not deal with people, whether it be an adoring fan or a dark lord supporter out for revenge, so he’d bought himself a nice little house half hidden on the edge of a forest. There was a spacious backyard, perfect for a garden or even some animals, and sometimes Harry would spend his afternoon getting lost in the forest behind it. Nobody knew the building existed except for his closest friends, Kingsley Shacklebolt (for emergencies), and now apparently two random Aurors and an ex-Dark Lord.

Though it was a bit far from civilization, there was a small town nearby that was very friendly, and it was easy enough to apparate or floo anywhere else.

The house could perhaps be described as a bit small, but it suited Harry’s needs just fine. There was a potions lab in the basement, a decent-sized library full of books from the Black library, a study, a couple extra bedrooms for guests, and plenty of room to walk around freely.

That’s where he was taking Tom now—to one of the extra bedrooms. It was just down the hall from his room, but he’d make sure to add some extra wards before night. He opened the door, stepping aside to let Tom look inside. “This can be your room. It’s got a bathroom connected to it, and it’s already fully stocked, so feel free to use whatever you find. My room is just down the hall,” He gestured towards his door, “so if you need anything, you can knock and wait for me to answer. Do not try to enter it without permission.”

Tom nodded, eyes glancing towards the door he’d pointed at. Harry didn’t think he realized his mouth was curved into a frown, but Harry saw no point in mentioning it.

“We can go shopping for stuff for you tomorrow, but for now, there should be some clothes in the drawers that might fit you,” Harry stated, already mentally composing a list of things to pick up.

“.. Yes, master,” Tom muttered, sounding far too tired to even be standing, in Harry’s personal opinion.

“I’m going to let you take a well-needed nap for today, because you honestly sound like you’re about to topple over any second.”

“.. Sorry, master.” A slight tremble in his hands, but covered up with him clenching them into fists.

“It’s fine. But, one last thing that I feel the need to specify before I leave you be,” Harry made sure Tom was paying attention to his words, “I  _ will not _ enter your room without your permission. Ever. This is your space to.. I don’t know.. Feel safe in? That being said, if I call you while you’re in your room, I expect you to come.”

Tom glanced quickly between the room and Harry, then back to the room. It was bland—decorated for a guest, without any personal touches. Hm, perhaps Harry would have to change that.

“Well, anyways, that’s all I wanted to say. Take a nap, rest up for a bit, take a shower, I don’t care. When you’re finished with all that, come find me. I’ll most likely be in the library, which is in the hallway on the first floor that we passed, or in the living room. Or maybe my study, which was the room we were in earlier,” Harry rambled, unable to stop himself.

“Yes, master. I will come find you,” Tom recited, letting Harry know he was listening.

“Well, I’ll leave you to that, then,” Harry nodded, unable to think of anything else to say. He left Tom standing in the hall, already mentally reciting a list of what he wanted to do today.

If he’d looked back, he would’ve seen Tom staring after him, looking much too confused about the fact he’d been.. given a room? Left alone so soon? Not immediately sent to do chores?

What was he here for, if not to be used?

. . . . .

A few hours later, while Harry was laying down across his couch, studying a large textbook full of theory and listening to some quiet music, Tom finally made a reappearance. He stood in the doorway for a moment, before quietly coming over to where Harry was lounging and dropping to his knees in once graceful motion.

Harry finished reading his page, leaving Tom to wait on the floor while he continued studying. Once the page was finished, he placed his bookmark and closed the book, before finally turning towards his slave.

Tom was keeping his face carefully neutral, staring at the ground without a single hint as to what he was feeling. He looked much better than he had earlier, probably having taken Harry up on the offer to take both a shower and a nap, along with finding some clothes that had fit him. With the long-sleeved maroon shirt and black trousers he’d found covering up most of the bruises, Harry could almost pretend that he  _ hadn’t _ been severely abused by the Ministry. 

Voicing his thoughts, Harry patted Tom’s hair again, which was quickly becoming a bad habit and- oh Merlin his hair was even  _ softer _ now after the shower. “Well, you look better.”

“Yes, thank you, Master, for allowing me the chance to rest and shower. I am grateful you showed such kindness,” Tom murmured, his kind words only put off by his monotone voice.

“Okay, that sounded fake,” Harry replied before he could stop himself.

And, as Harry’s grown to expect, Tom flinched, his hands gripping his pants tightly to try and keep them from shaking. “Sorry- I’m sorry, Master, I’ll do better-”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Harry sighed. “I  _ meant _ that your gratitude sounded fake because you don’t actually mean it. And I honestly don’t care if you do or don’t, I’d just rather not have to listen to you being thankful for every little thing to try and stay in my good graces. If you mean it, sure, you can thank me then. Otherwise, no use in pretending, really, because I’ll see right through it.”

Harry remembers the diary from his second year, full of confidence and yet, still quite a terrible liar (in Harry’s opinion). He remembers watching Riddle through the memories, where it had seemed so obvious to Harry he’d been lying because Harry has the same ticks when he lies. Harry remembered wondering why Dumbledore, nor anyone else, couldn’t tell what was happening until it was far too late, and it took years for him to realize  _ why. _

“I know you, and who you used to be, and I’m not looking for, nor trying to create, someone who’s every action is based around trying to please me. As I said before, I will not tolerate disobedience or disrespect, but I don’t expect you to be grateful for everything. Just.. be yourself, as long as  _ ‘yourself’ _ doesn’t lead to punishments,” Harry tried to explain.

“.. Yes, master,” Tom grumbled reluctantly, dropping the mask, which sounded a lot more honest to Harry, in his opinion. Finally, instead of the carefully neutral blankness of emotions, Tom looked rather annoyed at the situation.

Well, Harry hadn’t expected him to drop it completely  _ right away _ , but he’s not going to mention it.

“That being said, I have your first task for you,” Harry brought up. He’d gotten the idea earlier, and figured now was as good a time as any. “You mentioned that there’s no possible way to reverse the Right of Conquest. I want you to find proof of that somehow—in a way that I would accept as both legal and credible. You may use the library I mentioned earlier, and if you have any specific texts in mind that aren’t in there, let me know and I’ll decide what to do from there. Understood?”

“Yes, master,” came the clipped reply. “May I leave to go do that, then?”

“Sure,” Harry replied easily.

Tom stood up and gave Harry a short nod before turning to leave the room, never once looking back.

Harry took the chance to organize his thoughts. From what he’s learned, Tom knew much more of the actual laws and rules of slaves than Harry did, and he  _ was _ actually following them, albeit reluctantly, now that Harry’s told him to drop his mask of fake gratitude and eager-to-please attitude. Perhaps Harry should actually look into the rules and whatnot himself, to learn what he’s gotten himself into  _ this time.. _

Hermione was going to have a  _ fit. _

Harry watched the doorway Tom had disappeared through, then returned to his studying. NEWTs were going to study for themselves, after all.

. . . . .

Tom found the library with relative ease. He’d seen it earlier on passing, and Potter’s—his  _ master’s _ —house wasn’t big enough to get lost in for long.

He entered through the doorway, then immediately collapsed against the wall with shaky breathing and thoughts he’d rather not have. He slumped the rest of the way into sitting, allowing himself a few minutes to work through his breakdown, unable to push through it this time.

Merlin, he was a  _ slave _ now. His plan had worked (the first one to work when Potter was involved, Tom thought ironically) but he hadn’t actually thought past that. His only concern had been to get away from the Ministry, and had bet on the idea that Potter wouldn’t mind having his very own personal slave in the form of his worst enemy. Except..

Potter hadn’t actually specified  _ why _ he accepted. Was Tom here to be used like the Ministry had done? But why feed him actual  _ food _ and make that rule about “not using him sexually”? Why even take the chains off? Or allow Tom his own room and let him sleep and take a much-wanted shower?

What was he here for, if not to be used?

He’d tried the grateful and obedient slave approach, but it was only met with suspicion and distrust, and Potter had immediately asked him  _ not _ to do that. He’d told Tom to ‘be himself’ as long as it didn’t lead to trouble. Except.. Being  _ himself _ is what got him into this mess. It’s what got him into every mess. Nobody liked it when Tom acted like  _ himself _ , they only wanted the Tom that had been wearing a charming mask they’d never seen beneath.

His master asked him to drop the mask and be himself, but he didn’t actually  _ mean _ that. Nobody wanted  _ Tom Riddle _ . But, nonetheless, Tom had traded his charming mask for a more resentful kind of persona. If Potter didn’t want him to be the perfect slave, then he was probably expecting Tom to hate this situation and fight him every step of the way. And Tom  _ really _ didn’t want to even  _ attempt _ to get on his master’s bad side, so while he’s willing to act annoyed, he’d rather not risk not obeying.

Potter had acted confused when Tom had mentioned the Right of Conquest, but he’d seemed on board with the idea without much convincing. Surely, even if he doesn’t know the specifics of the bond, he knew what slaves were supposed to do. How they were supposed to act. And even if he didn’t, Tom knew the rules, and he would follow them the best he could.

It’s ironic that Potter’s first order would be to do research—to allow Tom access to any books in the library—when he’d expected never to read again. He  _ knows _ his mind is one of his most dangerous traits, and he  _ knows _ Potter knows that, so he’d fully expected to be banned from ever being allowed  _ near _ any sort of knowledge.

Well, mostly.. He’d expected to be hurt. He’d imagined chains and torture, both physical and mental. He’d imagined pain. Wouldn’t Potter want to get his revenge for everything Tom—Voldemort—had done?

That does bring up the point, though, that Potter  _ could _ have just used the bond to control Tom. It would have been impossible for Tom to even  _ try _ to disobey, not that he would, so why would Potter take the risk? Was he waiting for Tom to make a mistake? To complain?

Well, then his master would be in for some disappointment, because Tom had no intention of acting out in any way. He’d meant it, when he’d said he was loyal to Potter. Anything his master could do, it would never make up for the damage Tom has done, which made it easier to accept. Tom’s loyalty was to his master and his master alone, and  _ nothing _ Potter could do would change that. Even if.. Even if Potter decided to give him back to the Ministry.

Sure, he’d seemed against it when they were here, but.. That was because he’d already laid claim to his slave, and the Ministry had been trying to swindle him out of his rightful property. Potter had wanted them out of his home, which was understandable, but even so.. He’d still said he’d think about their offer. The offer that if he’d ever wanted to be rid of Tom, for however long, his master could bring him back. Not only that, but he’d get  _ paid _ for it.

It was a battle between how useful Tom was for his master, if it was worth keeping him rather than getting paid  _ and _ not having to deal with his slave.

And Tom  _ really _ didn’t want to go back to the Ministry. He’d take any punishment Potter could give if it meant he wouldn’t go back, and.. That, perhaps, was the point. If Tom disobeyed, his master would bring him back. Potter, somehow, impossibly, knew that was the worst punishment for Tom, and that’s why ke kept the offer on the table.

If that was the case, then Tom would have even more incentive not to disobey.

But.. Tom felt like there was something he was missing. Like.. all of the points lead to something, but what... 

Oh.

_ Oh. _

Tom understood now. 

How could he have been so blind.

Potter didn’t want a ‘grateful slave’, he wanted Tom to act ‘like himself’, which he knew was a horrible idea in and of itself. Potter didn’t want to use the bond to control Tom, instead trusting in him to follow orders himself. Potter didn’t even seem worried about if Tom would disobey or not, as if it was only a passing thought, at best.

He  _ wanted _ Tom to disobey.

Tom’s breathing, which had calmed into a slow rhythm, turned shallow and each breath felt harder to take than the last. He grabbed a handful of his hair, tight enough to hurt, but not tight enough to stop the realization of what was happening to flood his brain.

Potter  _ wanted  _ Tom to disobey, so he’d have an undeniable reason to punish him. If Tom was misbehaving, he wouldn’t have to feel bad for hurting him, because Tom ‘deserved it’. It was the perfect way to both keep his morals and get the revenge he so rightfully deserves.

Perhaps Tom had underestimated his master’s conniving mind, because the idea was absolutely  _ genius. _ Just wait for the slave to mess up or act out on their own, and then they’ll have the perfect reason to punish them. It makes the slave think that they  _ deserved _ it because they messed up, so it was their fault that this was happening, which encouraged better behavior by itself. It could paint the master as reluctant to punish them, but having no choice because of the bad actions of their slave, if they’d wished to go in that light.

Even the  _ Ministry _ hadn’t thought of doing anything of the sort—they’d preferred Tom unable to make any decisions and took that choice away from him. 

Tom half wished he’d thought of doing that when he was Voldemort, because it probably would’ve led to better results for his side of the war. And then he immediately regretted that thought, because, looking back on everything, Tom doesn’t actually  _ want _ Voldemort to have won. Voldemort was insane and had forgotten Tom’s true reasons for reaching for the top—which had included gaining sway over the Ministry and other higher-ups so he’d be able to change rules that deserved to be changed, such as how muggleborns are integrated into the magical world, and what age magic starts being taught, and even what kinds of magic, since so many kinds had been written off without further research, when it could have led into something great.

Tom had just wanted to change the world for the better, for muggleborns like himself, and even for magical orphans. Instead, he’d lost himself to insanity and now.. He wasn’t even a filthy mudblood anymore. He was a  _ slave. _

And because of that, he was going to have to do his best to please his master in any way, shape, or form. Even if it meant disobeying on purpose, so he can fulfill the role of deserving a punishment that Potter was probably eager to carry out.

Tom pushed himself up onto shaky knees, using the wall as support while he figured out how to walk again. His master had ordered him to do something, and therefore Tom would obey.

Even if it meant earning himself punishments intentionally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry: okay i don't really want a slave but i'm not going to leave anyone to suffer, even Voldemort! I hope we can get along!  
> Tom: Potter wants to torture me within an inch of my life and I will gladly take on the responsibility, because it is my sworn duty as his slave to provide him that opportunity  
> Tom: why did he give me food again tho
> 
> Tom is an idiot and anybody who says differently can fight me.


	2. Those Who Are Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tom's wisdom is only matched by Harry's obliviousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy y'all. It's VOID. >:D I'm so happy I get to introduce myself like that now.
> 
> (For those of you who don't know, I just recently changed my name from Vickironica to VoidRealmer. Don't worry y'all, it's still meeeeee.)
> 
> Also, I'm falling asleep where I lay and I also have classes tomorrow morning and homework to finish before then, so, like, here's a new chapter. Tom is so stupid, but Harry is almost just as bad. At the beginning of the chapter, I was like "ah yes, a very specific stopping point" except it took me FOREVER to get there.
> 
> So that's why this is a 14,600 word chapter. Nowhere near Dragon's, but listen, Dragon has to be some sort of forgotten diety at this point. I don't understand how they can write so much in such a short amount of time. It's killing me.
> 
> Anyways, the chapter. Enjoy!!!
> 
> EDIT: Link to my discord server!!!!  
> https://discord.gg/GGwQfme

Harry stretched, groaning while he did so. Perhaps staying in the same position for hours on end wasn’t the best thing to do, even if the cushion was soft and comfy. He’d gotten quite a bit of studying done, though not as much as he would’ve liked, thoughts still half on his slave, who was no doubt holed up in the library. To be completely honest, it was a miracle he was able to study at all.

For a moment, Harry vaguely wondered if Tom was actually following his order, or if he was using the time to read something of his own choosing. He wouldn’t be surprised if it were the latter, though then he’d have to do the research himself since Tom obviously wasn’t going to.

He made his way to the kitchen, intending to prepare a dinner for the both of them. It’s been hours since the sandwiches earlier, and Harry’s stomach was slowly trying to dissolve itself in a fit of rebellion for not having eaten. Harry, in return, wanted to remind his stomach that they’d gone  _ much _ longer without food before, but as his stomach was part of his body, and one that wouldn’t understand exasperated thoughts at that, he refrained.

He whipped out ingredients and pans, deciding on, well.. pot pie sounded nice, actually. Using a healthy mix of both magical and muggle contraptions—which took quite a while to set up to his liking, Harry remembered with a smile—to make cooking easier, Harry’s dinner was soon in the oven (and it looked delicious, if he could say so himself), which should be done within the next few minutes. The perfect time to go find Tom, he supposed. And, if he  _ did _ happen to be more than a few minutes, the oven was charmed to automatically switch to a stasis charm, leaving the food fresh and unburnt, even if Harry didn’t get to it on time. Merlin, Harry  _ loved _ magic.

Harry found himself standing outside the library doorway a minute later, staring in.. well,  _ shock _ , he supposed, at what he was seeing.

Tom had apparently been  _ very _ busy during his research, what with a good  _ fifteen books _ piled in different places on a table, while the slave in question was laying on the floor with yet  _ another _ book in his hands. He hadn’t noticed Harry yet, and was flipping page after page at a regular pace, eyes quickly scanning over the pages as he nonchalantly kicked his leg back and forth and chewed on his lip. (Harry most definitely did not let his gaze wander to Tom’s lips, which looked soft and a bit red from the biting and  _ very _ kissable-)

.. Tom did know that there were multiple comfy chairs in the library, right..? Why in the world would he choose to sit on the  _ floor, _ Harry wondered, and then questioned if that was perhaps another part of slavery, which.. Made sense, as Harry thought about it more. But.. Harry wouldn’t have  _ cared _ if Tom were in a chair rather than the floor, and yet..

Tom was following an entire set of rules that Harry had no idea what were. But, that was exactly why Harry had sent Tom to look up the rules and whatnot, so he’d be able to learn and understand what was happening.

Harry knocked twice on the doorway, alerting Tom to his presence as he walked into the library. The slave startled, flinching as he looked up from his book and meeting Harry’s eyes for all of a second, before he shifted his gaze to the floor. Tom shuffled himself into a kneeling position almost immediately, though careful not to damage the book in his haste. “Sorry, master. I didn’t- I didn’t hear you coming.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, “I just wanted to let you know dinner is about ready. But it looks like you’ve gotten quite a bit researched already. Do you need more time, or..?”

Was.. Was Tom  _ scared _ of him? Because, when he’d met Harry’s eyes a moment ago, they’d been filled with nothing but sheer  _ terror _ , before he’d been able to mask his expression into something neutral.

Harry hated that expression directed towards him.

And then Harry remembered what he’s all heard the Ministry do, and doesn’t blame Tom for being wary  (scared) when people surprise him. Merlin knows it took Harry long enough for him to stop jumping at every loud sound when he’d gone to Hogwarts for the first time.

“I- I believe I’ve found multiple sources you may find credible enough, Master,” Tom offered.

“Oh?” Harry inquired, curious. He didn’t think Riddle would bother finding a credible source, much less  _ multiple. _ “Could you show me?.. Actually, wait. This can wait till after dinner.”

“As you wish, master,” Tom agreed easily, but somehow, Harry didn’t think it was because of hunger.

Tom followed him back into the kitchen without another noise, to the point where Harry was tempted to check behind him if not for the light footsteps he could hear. When they entered the kitchen, Harry gestured at the table while he went to grab the pot pie out of the oven, which still came out perfect thanks to the charms he’d incorporated into the stove. Has Harry said he loved magic? Because he does, he really loves magic.

He turned around, ready to place the steaming hot pie on the table, then had to pause. This time, Harry couldn’t hold back a disgruntled sigh. Okay, he loved magic a bit less now.

“This is.. This is becoming a common theme, I’m learning,” Harry mused, not sure who he was talking to—himself or Riddle. He refrained from pinching the bridge of his nose, especially considering his hands were full of pie.

Tom was, once again, kneeling at the foot of the chair Harry had sat in earlier, just like he’d done before. Harry remembers specifying that Tom should actually sit in the  _ chair _ , he knows he did, but  _ apparently _ it didn’t stick. Then he remembers that he’d only really ordered for Tom to sit in the chair last time, but Harry had kinda assumed that Riddle would get the idea and feel free, if not  _ entitled _ , to use the chair after the first time.

What was even more surprising, in Harry’s opinion, was that Tom didn’t even look  _ annoyed _ at kneeling instead of sitting in a chair. He looked—well, Harry’s wouldn’t call it  _ content _ , but he looked  _ indifferent. _ Like he didn’t care one way or another if he had to kneel or not.

How does somebody go from a terrifying and sadistic Dark Lord to..  _ This? _ To someone who now looked wary at Harry’s displeasure, tensing up a bit and clenching his fists, as if he expected Harry to  _ act _ on his displeasure.

Harry wondered if he was in over his head, accepting the offer so easily. Either way, he brushed his thoughts off, finally placing the dish down on the table and specifying, “You can sit in a chair during meals, if you want. That wasn’t a one time offer, earlier.” He tried to keep his emotions, negative or positive, out of the phrase, but it didn’t seem to help either way.

“If you wish me to do so, Master,” was the reply he got, with just as much emotion.

Harry  _ really _ hates the Ministry, with a burning passion.

“Your choice,” Harry shrugged, with forced nonchalance.

Riddle looked like he  _ really _ didn’t appreciate being made to choose, but eventually, he slowly slid into the same chair from earlier, keeping a careful eye on Harry’s every facial expression, like he expected the offer to be taken back. As if he’d expected his decision to be the wrong one.

Harry ignored the wary expression, handing over an empty plate to Tom, then scooping a portion of the pot pie onto his own. He dug into his own dinner, not realizing just how hungry he’d been until he was able to smell the food in front of him. Really, Harry thought this was one of the best dishes he’d made in a while. The meat was savory, the vegetables overflowing with delicious juices, and the crust was flaky and crisp, with not a single burnt edge, and..

Tom hadn’t taken a single bite. Or gotten himself anything to eat.

Harry put his fork down, holding back the urge to sigh. “Standing rule number five,” he started, pretending not to notice the way Riddle jumped and already looked half ready to slide back out of the chair to kneel, “You are allowed to eat and drink whatever you want, whenever you want, other than food I specifically tell you not to touch. You can even attempt cooking if you really want. However, no alcohol, on the off chance you find any here. Or potions, actually, now that I think of it,—no drinking any potions without my explicit permission.”

Tom paused in his slow descent to his knees, staring at Harry with confused apprehension. “.. If you wish, master.”

Merlin, what did the Ministry  _ do _ to him?? That he looks so doubtful of Harry’s words that he would be able to  _ eat. _

“I do wish, actually.” And with that, Harry dug back into his food, gesturing for Riddle to get his own with a full mouth and a wave of his hand.

Eventually, again, Tom stopped second-guessing every bite he took, each one being a bit quicker than the last. A few minutes later, he even took the initiative to reach for seconds, after a hesitant glance towards Harry.

Where did the annoyed look and haughty attitude go from earlier, after Harry had told him to drop the mask? Could.. Could that have been another mask?

Of course, the (extremely awkward) meal had to end eventually, and it did. Harry felt loads better than he had earlier, finally having some food in his stomach. The sandwiches really hadn’t been enough to hold him over, and he doubted they did much for Tom, either, who had, no doubt, not eaten for a while before that.

When both of their plates were empty, Harry leaned back with a content sigh, just in time for-

“Thank you for the gracious meal, master. It was delicious,” Tom bowed his head, then started scooping up the empty dishes before Harry could get a word in edgewise. He brought them over to the sink, taking a couple seconds to learn how the water worked, before starting to wash them with rolled-up sleeves.

Tom got a plate and a cup done before Harry was able to move past his surprise and make his voice work. “You don’t- You don’t have to do that.”

‘ _ A spell could do it in a fraction of the time,’ _ Harry wanted to add on, but refrained.

Instead of stopping, or even pausing, Tom only gripped the next dish that much tighter. “I am your slave,” he stated, “It is my entire role in life, now, to be used at your convenience.”

And Harry couldn’t help but to retort, “I never wanted a slave.”

At that, Riddle froze, letting what was probably extremely hot water run directly on his hands without a flinch, before he returned to the dishes with renewed determination. 

Silence. Three silverware were cleaned and put in the drain to dry.

Eventually, Tom exhaled a breath, just shaky enough for Harry to note it, “I  _ know _ that already. I know I’m not wanted. You don’t have to point it out, master.”

“.. What?” Harry asked, caught off guard.

Tom continued, and Harry greatly wished he didn’t. “I  _ know _ you don’t want a slave, just like you didn’t want to be in the Triwizard Tournament or be on the run for an entire year or lose all your family to a megalomaniac dark lord. I  _ know that. _ And once again, I’ve forced your hand. I  _ know. _ I  _ know _ I’m nothing but a burden, that you don’t even want me here. Nobody  _ actually _ wants to deal with me. So I have to ask, master,” Tom turned around to face Harry, his eyes blazing red with conviction. “Why am I here?”

Harry thought he’d answered that earlier, but Tom’s question was far from the most concerning thing he’d said.

(A part of him realized that  _ this _ —this was the Tom Riddle that had become Voldemort. And Harry wondered how long he would stay.)

“Well, why did you enact the Right of Conquest?” Harry retorted instead, starting with the easiest part.

Finally, Tom’s gaze dropped, no longer able to look Harry in the eye. “To serve you,” he answered, and just as Harry was about to call him out on that, he continued with, “of my own free will, rather than being with the Ministry.”

“Do you want to be here?” Harry was actually really curious about that, assuming Riddle answered truthfully.

“Yes.” Not a single ounce of hesitation in the reply.

“Then there’s your answer,” Harry waved his hand. “You’re here because you decided to enact the bond, thus making you  _ my _ responsibility. You took the necessary steps to be here, and so here you are. You wouldn’t have done the bond if you weren’t completely sure of your actions.. I think. I don’t know what the Ministry did to you, and I’m not going to ask, but I definitely have some sort of idea, and I’m not liking it.”

Tom didn’t reply, only returning to the couple remaining dishes. Harry waited patiently while his slave finished them, thinking over what Riddle had said.

Did he really think he was a burden..? Even when he was trying his hardest to be helpful, from what Harry’s observed so far?

“Why do you think you’re not wanted?” Harry asked instead.

Riddle let out a depreciating laugh, “I’ve never been wanted before. Why would it be any different with you?  _ Especially _ you.”

Harry didn’t have a response for that.

Soon enough, the dishes were clean and Tom was drying his hands off on a nearby towel. Before refolding the towel, he glanced back to the wet dishes, as if wondering whether he should dry them too, but evidently decided not to.

Before Riddle was able to kneel in front of Harry’s chair like he was obviously about to do, Harry stood up. “Alright, let’s go look at the books you managed to find.” And quieter, to himself almost, he muttered, “At least one of us is good at research.”

Tom trailed along behind his master like an awkward puppy as they headed to the library.

. . . . .

_ Why did he say that why did he say that why did he say that why did he say that why did he say that- _

Well, Tom hadn’t been planning on getting on his master’s bad side so early, but perhaps it was for the best? Maybe?

Tom just wanted this day to be over.

Merlin, why couldn’t he have just kept his mouth shut? He didn’t  _ mean _ to say any of that. So much for his plan of being the perfect slave- Potter surely wouldn’t stand for his slave talking back to him, especially so early in their new roles. So  _ what _ if Potter told him how useless his presence was—it’s not like he didn’t already  _ know _ that. If his master wants to point it out, he can.

Tom pondered over what the punishment would be as they walked to the library. Potter would obviously want to see the proof of Tom’s work before he was punished, as Tom would be unavailable afterwards, most likely, depending on how severe or time-consuming it was. He wondered if it would be more physical or humiliating? Either way, it was out of Tom’s hands now.

They reached the library, and Tom saw his stacks of books he’d made. There was a pile for books that mentioned the bond, but were false in their information and thus, were useless. Another for books that mention the Right of Conquest, but don’t go into detail about anything with it. Along with that, a pile for books that  _ do _ go into detail about it, but were untrustworthy as a source, and may contain false information hidden somewhere.

The last, and easily the smallest, was the pile that his master was after. There were only three books, and two were relatively short, but they contained factual information and fit Potter’s standards. Tom knew it was a meager amount, and would be lucky if Potter even considered his order complete after learning how useless most of the books were, but there really wasn’t much information on the Right of Conquest. 

The reason for that was relatively simple. The only way to qualify to enact a bond is by having a duel with someone with such high risks that it usually ends in death for one, if not both, of the duelers. The last person who could’ve had this bond in recent days would’ve been Dumbledore with Grindelwald, and in the time it took Tom to consider what the world would’ve been like if that had happened, he was already shoving the thought away to the farest corner of his mind.

“Tom?” His master called, and Tom snapped back into focus. He’d have time to think later, probably.

“Yes, master?”

“I asked what the piles of books each mean?” Potter repeated.

Tom internally cursed himself. So that hadn’t been the first time his master had addressed him, and now it looked like Tom had intentionally  _ ignored _ him. Merlin, he was really making this worse for himself by the  _ minute _ , wasn’t he?

“Sorry, master,” Tom started with, then continued to explain what each pile was for, trying to be both thorough in his explanation but also short enough in getting to the point. By the time he was halfway through, he realized he should have kneeled, but at that point, it was too late to without looking suspicious. Perhaps Potter had forgotten? (It was a miracle how his master wasn’t already cursing him, Tom mused.) He finally moved onto the pile Potter was looking for, and when he finished his explanation, he added on, “Sorry I couldn’t find more, master. There is.. Little information on the bond, in general, since it is so uncommon.”

“ _ ‘Little information’ _ my arse,” Potter mocked. Tom tensed, preparing himself for anything his master would inflict. “Ah yes, only twenty entire books in three hours, truly a  _ meager amount.” _

Ah, so Tom’s failure was being mocked. Despite having prepared for punishment, he couldn’t help but feel his cheeks heat up and close his eyes in humiliation. “Sorry, master.”

“.. For what..?” Potter asked, pausing in his spiel. He sounded confused, and of course he did, Tom needed to specify exactly what he’d done wrong to get the point across—so his master would know he understood why he deserved punishment, and wasn’t that some kind of punishment within itself.

“For not finding an adequate amount of credible books for you, master.” Tom bowed his head further, unable to look his master anywhere near the face, for fear of what expressions he would find.

“Riddle- Tom, I.. I was being sarcastic,” Potter explained, as if Tom hadn’t already guessed that. (And why did he say Riddle? Riddle was no longer his name—as a slave, Tom had no last name. He was Potter’s property.)

“I know,” Tom replied.

“.. Then.. why..?” His master asked, before elaborating. “Then you know I was joking, right? You found plenty of books. I was honestly only expecting  _ one _ , and doubted it would’ve been even half credible.”

Tom didn’t know what was worse—the fact that Potter had apparently mocked him in good manner and Tom didn’t catch it or the fact that he had such low expectations for Tom in the first place that he would be sufficiently surprised by the small amount he’d managed to find.

Tom didn’t have a response for that, and could only nod his head slightly in acknowledgment.

“Alright, so which books would you recommend I read first?” Potter asked, and Tom had to glance over to be able to see the books he was scanning over.

He gestured vaguely to the smallest pile. “These would be the best to read, master. They have credible sources and are most likely to be factual. However, if you need more information, I would.. Recommend asking the bookstore about what they have, or.. Or find the information from the Ministry,” Tom forced out. Merlin knows that whatever came out of the Ministry would probably be both true and credible, but in the worst way for him possible, highlighting on the darkest parts and skimming, if not skipping, over the more neutral parts of the bond.

Potter shrugged, “These three will be fine. Here, carry these.” His master shoved the two smaller books into his hands, while taking the thickest one for himself. Potter started walking out of the library, and Tom went to follow him, but stopped when his master suddenly paused, turning back around. “You can choose a book you wish to read, as long as you believe I would approve of it.”

Tom startled, about to protest because why would he need a book? He was at his master’s disposal- and then decided to just obey because that’s really the only option for him. So he nodded then headed off into the shelves of books, out of his master’s gaze.

There wasn’t really any book he wanted to read for himself. Tom had only ever read to learn, to become more powerful, and considering his new position and lack of magic, there wouldn’t be any reason to do so. Not to mention, he’d doubted being left alone long enough to indulge in reading for himself, assuming Potter would rather keep him busy than bored, and thus useless.

With those thoughts, and Potter’s instruction about his approval, Tom just quickly grabbed a thick book off the fantasy section shelf, not even bothering to read the title. It wouldn’t do to make his master wait.

Tom returned, carrying all three books, back to his master, who was idly flipping through the book he was carrying. Potter shut it when he saw Tom returning, raising an eyebrow. “So what’d you choose?”

Instead of responding, Tom just raised the book up to show his master the one he’d chosen. Apparently, it had something to do with dragons, according to the cover picture, and oh no was this not fantasy like he’d gone for-

“Eragon? Merlin, I haven’t read that book since I was ten. A good way to pass the summer, when you’ve got nothing to do but sit in a dusty cupboard,” Potter shrugged, and didn’t seem to realize the concerning thoughts behind what he’d said. “Good choice, if not a bit boring. Oh, it  _ is _ fantasy, so if you’re expecting to learn something from it, you’re going to be disappointed.”

Tom shook his head, “No- I was going for.. This is fine, master.”

Thank Merlin it did turn out to be fantasy. Tom doubted his master would’ve let him read anything worthwhile, and he really wasn’t trying to get on Potter’s bad side any more than he already was.

Harry stared at him for a minute with an indecipherable expression, and Tom has never felt more uncomfortable in his entire life. Was he mad? Upset? Did he think Tom was lying? Did he choose wrong? Merlin, Tom hoped Potter didn’t think he was lying, because that was one of the main rules, and Tom wouldn’t dare disobey, but what if Potter just assumed he was lying anyways?

Tom resisted the urge to shift under Potter’s stare, his uneasiness only shown through his tightening grip on the books. Eventually, his master did turn away, and they continued on their walk back to the living room. Tom’s thoughts returned to wondering what his punishment was going to be, because he’s already made several mistakes that Potter would definitely feel the need to correct, most likely through humiliating or painful means.

They entered the living room again, and Potter muttered something about leaving the two smaller books on the coffee table, which Tom obeyed, while he settled into the same armchair from earlier. It seemed that, from what Tom had noticed, the armchair was his master’s favorite chair to sit in in the living room.

Tom kneeled next to the chair, still holding the book he’d chosen, and wondered what was going to happen next. It seemed his master was a fan of making his slave wait before punishing them, which, again, was a truly brilliant idea. Voldemort should’ve taken notes, honestly. By making Tom wait for punishment, it makes him tense and wary and nervous about messing up anymore as to not make the punishment any worse than it was already going to be.

No wonder Potter won the war, if he’s this smart and brutal. Tom would applaud it, if he weren’t on the receiving end.

A thought crossed his head, and Tom thanked whatever gods may exist that he’d perfected his neutral mask long ago, because the thought almost made him throw up.

What if Potter  _ didn’t _ give him any punishments? Instead, he just counted the offenses as they came, and when Tom crossed the line one time too many, his master would just give him back to the Ministry? He can already imagine his master’s disappointed glare, saying that Tom isn’t worth all the trouble he’s causing, and just  _ forget _ about him.

(Tom knows he isn’t worth it, but _ damn _ if he’s not going to try his best to atone for that.)

“You can read the book, you know,” Potter declared out of nowhere, startling Tom out of his thoughts. He thought his master was too concentrated on the book to focus on what his slave was doing. “Or go to bed, if you want. Or go in your room and read. You don’t have to stay here and kneel if you don’t want to. I’m just going to be reading for the new few hours anyways.”

Tom didn’t really know how to respond to that, so he went with the first option—agreeing. “Yes, master.”

After that, he decided to try to read, but stayed kneeling by his master. It’s.. where Tom felt the most comfortable, as strange as that may sound. It reminded him that perhaps Potter hadn’t decided to get rid of him yet, and that his plan had actually  _ worked. _

Of course, after enacting the bond, Tom did legally belong to Potter, but it was still risky, simply because Potter didn’t  _ know _ about it. If the Ministry had decided just.. Not to tell him, then Potter would’ve probably never known about Tom and the bond and Tom would have been stuck with the Ministry anyway, but this time, with his magic irreversibly bound.

(In the Ministry, it had only been constantly severely depleted, unable to regenerate because of the wards behind his cell. It had left him exhausted and unable to fight back with even the slightest amount of strength, not to mention the lack of food and water, but he’d somehow managed. Somehow.)

He forcibly snapped himself out of his thoughts, realizing that he hadn’t even read the first page yet, and surely his master would get suspicious if it took him so long to read even a single page. He did his best to concentrate fully on the book, taking in the plot and characters as they came.

About three chapters later, Tom simply couldn’t focus anymore. The words were scrambling in his head and nothing made sense, and it was getting harder and harder to keep his eyes open. He’d been far too tense and exhausted for far too long, and it was finally catching up to him. The nap from earlier hadn’t helped, because he’d barely slept a wink then, knowing his master said to take his time relaxing, but what if he took  _ too long? _ But now, Tom was exactly where he was supposed to be, and didn’t have to worry about anything for the moment, since his master had said he was going to read for a few hours.

It was inevitable, perhaps, that the book would be pushed aside as Tom drifted in and out of unconsciousness. His legs shifted just enough to allow him to comfortably lean on the chair, except chairs weren’t supposed to be warm and  _ oh no _ -

Tom jerked awake, flinching away from the couch. He’d been leaning on  _ his master. _ His master who was disgusted at the thought of Tom touching him, even if it would be at his pleasure, and Tom had just  _ touched him. _ He waited for the subsequent slap, and after none came, Tom risked a glance up.

Potter snorted in amusement, a hint of a smile at the edge of his mouth. When he shifted his book to one hand and lifted it, Tom flinched away, then quickly lowered his head back down because no slave was supposed to look his master in the eyes-

A hand gently carded through his hair. Potter had been doing that a lot, Tom noticed. Not that he minded, it felt  _ wonderful _ and Tom could feel some of his tension melt away at the soft touch. After a couple strokes, the hand gently nudged Tom’s head back into leaning against the leg, then went back to combing through his hair.

They stayed like that for a while, and eventually Tom was able to relax again, shuffling minutely into a more comfortable position, where he was fully leaning against his master and fully enjoying the hair strokes.

Tom’s eyes slowly drifted closed, and this time, he didn’t fight the lull into slumber.

. . . . .

Harry couldn’t help but snort when Tom jerked awake after accidentally leaning on his leg. He’d noticed his slave drifting in and out of consciousness, most likely barely even registering the words on the page. Eventually, Tom had closed the book and apparently decided to nap against the couch, instead of perhaps going up to his room to sleep, but Harry didn’t mind. If Tom wanted to kneel at Harry’s feet, who was Harry to deny him?

He’d liked Tom’s resulting flinch decidedly less.

Harry just combed through his hair, watching as Tom relaxed considerably. He nudged Tom back into leaning against him, because Harry truly hadn’t minded and he didn’t want Tom to think he  _ did _ mind, and actually it honestly felt kind of good.

As Harry expected, Tom slowly drifted back to sleep. It was an interesting look on the ex-Dark Lord, knowing that he could somehow be so relaxed in someone’s presence who, at one point, had been destined to kill him, and especially after what the Ministry had probably put him through. He looked.. peaceful. The lines of tension, even the ones Harry hadn’t noticed, left him and made him look younger.

It was such a difference from knowing somebody who had once been so powerful to them flinching at his every move, and then later to being completely relaxed in his presence.

It was.. strange, was what it was. Harry expected Tom to either have been broken enough by the Ministry to warrant creating the bond, making for someone terrified of acting out, or someone who only made the bond to escape from a bad situation, believing he’d be able to take control over his situation with Harry. Instead, Harry didn’t get either. He got a mix of the two—Tom didn’t seem  _ scared _ of Harry, but definitely wary of him. He seemed resentful about having to obey, but didn’t actually seem to carry any of that resent he’s using.

When Harry had asked Tom to drop his mask, he’d done it almost immediately, but.. Harry remembered Tom’s terrified look every time he thought he’d done something wrong, and wondered if the resentful persona hadn’t been another mask. And if so, what the real Tom Riddle was like, now that he was completely under Harry’s control.

A while later, Harry noticed that Tom had fallen into a deep slumber, and probably wouldn’t be waking up any time soon. Harry didn’t really want to disturb the slave, knowing he probably didn’t get any sleep earlier, but Tom was going to be very uncomfortable if he stayed in that position too much longer.

Harry had promised Tom that he would not enter his room without explicit permission, and was going to honor that request, even if it was just helping him into his own bed. So with Tom’s bedroom out of the question, Harry simply shifted a bit so he was able to carry Tom (with help from magic, of course) and lay him down on the couch. He summoned a thick blanket and gently laid it on Tom, who curled around it on a reflex.

With that issue out of the way, Harry got up to go back to his armchair, only to be stopped by-

“.. don’t go, please..”

Harry turned around, and yep, Tom was still asleep, but he’d still somehow noticed that Harry was leaving, even while unconscious, and was muttering slurred words.

“.. don’t wanna.. leave you..”

Harry stayed by Tom’s side for a moment, once more combing through his hair, and watched how he relaxed, even in sleep. No more words came, even after Harry quietly made his way back over to his chair and resumed his reading.

. . . . .

Morning came by quicker than Harry would have suspected, but to be fair, he’d been pretty lost in thought for the past few hours. (Also, he might’ve dozed off for a few hours when he was studying, but nobody has to know.) Tom was still asleep on the couch, looking more relaxed than he had the entire day yesterday. Harry mourned waking him, simply because it seemed like Tom needed the sleep, but also.. If Harry was being truly honest, then because he’d rather have some time alone right now.

Not that having  _ Voldemort _ as a slave wasn’t great, but.. Harry really had no  _ use _ for a slave, or a servant, or whatever else the bond was supposed to call them. And after finishing the books with all of the information that Tom was able to find, he’s started to get a horrifying idea of what the bond was usually like. No wonder Tom’s been terrified so far.

_ Merlin,  _ the role of ‘slave’ was everything Harry hated in life, according to the texts. Living off of perhaps a bowl of sludge per day,  _ at best _ , but also the list of punishments for such minor infractions was sickening. What kind of stupid rules were  _ ‘don’t look the master in the eyes’ _ or  _ ‘don’t make a sound unless asked a question’ _ ??

Honestly, the whole time Harry had been reading the books, all he could think of was the Dursleys—how slaves were expected to act exactly like he’d been treated with them.

By accepting the Right of Conquest, Harry had essentially become the exact thing he’d been trying to avoid. Except.. He was no longer the worthless freak—the bottom of the totem pole—, he was the  _ Dursleys. _ And that, somehow, was  _ worse. _

_ Far, far worse. _

Tom had been truthful yesterday, when he’d mentioned that the bond was irreversible. Or, at least, nobody had ever found a way to reverse it before, and, well.. Tom had said he wouldn’t look for a way to reverse it, and as much as it was a horrible idea, knowing who he was, Harry wanted to believe him. He wanted to trust that Tom knew what he was getting into with the bond—that he wasn’t going to try escaping every chance he got, but.. Harry wasn’t sure if he  _ could. _

As much as this Tom Riddle seemed to be perfectly submissive, Harry had met Riddle before. Multiple times, each a different version of him, actually. And Harry knew how each had acted—charming, unassuming, until it had faded into horrible insanity, to the point of no rhyme or reason—and just, well, Harry didn’t have any  _ proof _ that this Tom Riddle wouldn’t be any different from them.

Harry needed to find the balance between being Riddle’s master and not turning into the Dursleys, but honestly, he didn’t even know where to  _ start. _ He’s enforced some basic rules, though there’s no telling if Tom will actually follow them until it’s too late, so maybe he should use the bond?

Harry doesn’t want to use the bond, really, simply because deep down, he  _ really _ wanted to use it. The Right of Conquest would allow Harry to strip Tom of his free will through two different ways—pain that slowly grows until he obeys or if he disobeys, or.. Through absolute, total control. Riddle wouldn’t be able to even  _ think _ of disobeying, more of just a puppet in his own body at that point.

And Harry expects that that’s the one Tom assumes he’ll use, if any at all. He wondered if Tom even knew of the other way, of the slowly growing pain method, because he’d never mentioned it before, so perhaps not.

Harry was having a war within himself, pulled between two different options. On one hand, he could use the pain method  _ (never the absolute control)  _ and make sure Riddle actually listened, but.. Harry was scared as to how much he wanted that. It would feel  _ so _ good to see Tom unable to disobey, knowing there was no other choice, no matter how much he hated it. It would feel wonderful, knowing that the person who had ruined Harry’s life was now in Harry’s hands.

But all Harry could think of was the Dursleys, the name chanting and echoing in his head and reminding him with vivid imagery of exactly how horrible his childhood had been. Could he truly wish that upon anyone? No matter how much his sadistic side—one that the war had brought out far too often—enjoyed the thought?

On the other hand, Harry could just keep going as is, and hope for the best. But could he truly trust Riddle to behave? Even if he was staying in line now, who’s to say that wouldn’t change a week down the line? How could he make sure that Riddle wasn’t plotting against him at every turn under the guise of obeying?

Harry could never just forget what Tom Riddle had done, who he’d become. He’d been responsible for so much pain and suffering and death, especially on Harry’s end, so surely he deserved to suffer? Could Harry really justify hurting someone because of that?

Surely, it’s what the Ministry expected him to do. Tom enacting the Right of Conquest didn’t do anything but change the home of his prison, really. Harry knew he couldn’t just leave Tom to do what he wants—he became a slave for a reason, and that reason was important to consider.

But that didn’t mean that Harry had to be cruel, right..? 

Merlin, he was getting nowhere with these thoughts.

Harry sighed, then watched Tom shift and roll over on the couch in his sleep, pulling the blanket closer to him. He would almost describe it as  _ cute _ , if it weren’t Tom Riddle, ex-Dark Lord and his newly appointed  _ slave. _

And then, Harry realized that he’d already decided to do long before he’d ever started pondering over the possibilities. Sure, Harry could lean on the side of caution, and it probably wouldn’t hurt, but.. He could never actually punish Riddle on the  _ chance _ that he does something wrong, far before he’s actually  _ done _ anything. No, if Riddle’s going to get a punishment, he’s going to  _ earn it. _

Harry has been accused of doing too many things in life to punish someone without  _ proof. _

_ (The Dursleys, shoving all of their chores onto him, doting over Dudley, giving him three meals a day while they barely fed Harry scraps, forcing him to work for hours upon hours at the age of four, spreading horrible rumors about him, that he was some sort of delinquent, having it be believed so easily because of the color of his skin, going to school for the first time and not even knowing his name, the teacher wondering why Harry didn’t answer when his name was called and his reply of how his name was Freak, and the teacher seemingly forgetting that next time the Dursleys came in to pick up Dudley, leaving little Harry to walk home, growing up to realize that no adults will actually help, they all just judge without seeing anything, and even in Hogwarts that never changed, they just all assumed he was the Golden Boy, the Light Child and never realizing the jagged, broken boy underneath, slandering his name when he did something even slightly wrong, never getting a moment of privacy, living his whole life knowing that people were only seeing some sort of mask, that he was expected to  _ **_kill_ ** _ someone, he’s known since he was eleven that he was meant to kill someone, otherwise he might as well be right back with the Dursleys, where he’s nothing more than Freak-) _

No, Harry could never force the same thing onto Tom. His punishment for the war is his slavery, and for everything after that, well, Harry would take care of that as it came.

For now, he’ll treat Tom like a stray alley cat he picked up, who will either end up warming up to him or trying to murder him in his sleep. Either way, Harry will be able to choose his next step from there.

With that decided, Harry quietly made his way to the kitchen, stretching along the way with a couple satisfying pops. Time for breakfast.

. . . . .

“Tom, wake up,” Harry nudged his slave, who swatted his hand away and rolled over to block his face. “Tooooommm, time to get up.” He started taking the blanket off.

Tom reached for the blanket in his sleep, but when he was unable to grab it, he groaned and blearily opened his eyes, which went from a dark maroon—matching his shirt—to vibrant crimson in half a second as he snapped back into consciousness, remembering where he was. The changing-eye-color thing was pretty cool, to be honest, Harry thought.

Backing up and giving Tom some space, Harry asked, “You awake?”

A clipped tone, but not disrespectful, “Yes, master.”

“Great, breakfast is ready.” Harry motioned for Tom to follow him into the kitchen, where Harry had cooked a selection of random breakfast foods. He definitely hadn’t been trying to delay waking Tom as long as possible because it looked like Tom definitely needed the sleep. Definitely not.

Instead of sitting down, Harry watched Tom send an apprehensive look towards the three books piled on the coffee table (along with the book Tom had chosen), then stare at the food with doubt and suspicion.

Just as Harry was about to repeat that Tom could sit and eat like he had yesterday, Tom spoke up—the first time he’d ever done so since being with Harry. “Did you read the books, master?”

“.. Yes..?” Harry answered, confused and surprised at Tom choosing to speak up, and  _ why _ he did.

“Then surely you must know that it is not.. It’s not fitting for someone of.. Of my station- to.. To join you, master,” Tom muttered, clenching his fists still hanging at his sides.

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but I’m quite firmly  _ against _ both starvation and feeding somebody weird grey mush. Also, I feel like that’d be an insult to my cooking skills, really,” he mumbled the last part.

Tom didn’t reply, still looking down at the floor with a resolute stare.

Harry sighed. “Tom, who is the master here?” Guess he should get used to his new role, since it didn’t seem like it was going to change any time soon.

“You, master,” was the immediate reply.

“And what are you?” Harry asked, oddly concerned at how quickly Tom was able to admit that.

“Your slave, master.” Tom didn’t hesitate to answer, just sounding oddly.. Resigned.. At the situation.

“And that means?” Harry pressed.

Tom’s answer came out as more of a sigh, and Harry watched his eyes fade into a duller color as he responded with, “I obey your orders, master.”

“Exactly,” Harry nodded. “So, if I want you sitting at the table eating breakfast with me..?”

A hesitant glance up, a spark of hope. “I will.. obey?”

Instead of answering, Harry just gestured for Tom to come sit down with him, which he did with a lot less trepidation than before.

Breakfast continued without any problems, and again, Tom collected the dishes and started washing them without being prompted. This time, Harry didn’t bother mentioning it. If this was Tom’s way of feeling helpful around the house, then who was Harry to deny him?

Tom faltered when he noticed Harry watching him, but Harry played it off as a glance, as if he were actually doing something else instead of just being lost in thought. Tom’s grip on the sponge tightened, squeezing out most of the soap suds, and he returned to the dishes with some sort of renewed determination.

To actually look busy—and the fact that it needed to be done—Harry summoned a piece of paper and a pen with barely a thought and went to work writing down a shopping list of what he could think that they would need. Sure, Tom needed clothes and supplies and all of that, but Harry was also running low on a couple groceries that he would need to pick up.

. . . . .

Tom scrubbed at the dishes, feeling thoroughly useless. If he had his magic, the dishes could be done in a matter of  _ seconds _ , but since he doesn’t, washing dishes (and not to mention  _ drying them) _ took far longer—during which, his master deemed to sit at the table and watch him, either waiting for him to finish or enjoying the sight or  _ something. _

At least today, his master was instead focusing on writing something down than just watching him fail to do such a  _ simple task. _ It’s not Tom’s fault that he’s never really been in kitchens before—he’s never had a chance to cook, and especially never had to clean up after meals. If he ever  _ did _ have to do any sort of cleaning, his magic was able to take care of it in a matter of seconds, but alas, that’s not an option.

Potter may think he was being sneaky with his subtle glances toward him, but Tom saw them nonetheless. Was he upset that Tom was taking so long? Tom doesn’t want to do them halfway, because that surely would lead to more problems later, but he’s wasting his master’s time, and that surely would add onto everything else he’s done wrong.

He relished in the stinging sensation that the steaming hot water brought, as Potter hadn’t deemed to punish him otherwise.

Despite Tom’s thoughts, it didn’t take long for him to finish the dishes, seeing as there were only two people eating. He dried his hands, then kneeled beside his master—since they were no longer eating, Tom had no reason to sit at the table.

Tom knew that Harry had read the books, so he knew what kind of behavior was expected from Tom—from slaves. Tom had read the books years and years ago, but they were still the most updated version of information on anything about the bond, so he  _ knew _ what information was in them. He knew what Potter was probably expecting from him now, and unless Potter ordered otherwise, they would be the rules that Tom fell back on.

(But now that Potter had read the books, he would know exactly how many times Tom messed up, and would keep an eye out for more mistakes in the future.)

His master put the pen down with a sense of finality, declaring, “Right. Today, we’re going shopping.”

Ah, yes. Potter had mentioned doing something like that today. “Yes, master.”

His master held out the sheet of paper he was writing on. “Is there anything not on the list that you think you need?”

Tom gingerly grabbed the paper, skimming through the list before handing it back. Technically, there wasn’t  _ anything _ he needed, since he was a slave and thus at his master’s mercy. If his master so wished, Tom wouldn’t be allowed to wear clothes, or eat actual food, or even vocalize a single sound.

(If Tom had known anything about muggle electronics, he would’ve compared his situation to a device that needs batteries. Without the batteries, the device obviously doesn’t work, but at the same time, the device is in no way  _ entitled  _ to batteries. But, alas, Tom didn’t know a thing about muggle electronics, so he didn’t compare it.)

“There is nothing I need unless you will it, master.” Surely that was the correct response?

Judging from the following sigh, it hadn’t been.

Merlin, why couldn’t Tom have been born as a checker piece or something.

“Fine then, is there anything you  _ want?” _ Potter corrected.

A nap, his magic, to hide away somewhere where nobody would remember him, to be loved, to be held, for this entire situation—every bad decision he’s ever made—to be nothing more than a bad dream.

_ Don’t lie. Don’t lie. Don’t lie- _

“Nothing you would give me, master,” Tom replied, intentionally vague.

His master frowned, a crease appearing in his eyebrows. “.. Are any of them physical objects, or rather ideas and concepts of world domination?” His voice was oddly flat, as if he wanted to feel amused but couldn’t quite get there.

Did his master really still think world domination was Tom’s goal?

(It never had been.)

Potter.. really had no expectations for him. He expected Tom to be the exact same as Voldemort, and every time Tom tried to disprove it, he was met with suspicion and distrust.

_ Don’t lie. Don’t lie.  _ **_Don’t lie-_ **

“I don’t- I have no desire to rule anymore. But no, none of my.. wants.. Are physical objects, master. And, well,” Tom hesitated, wondering if he should carry on, but figured it was too late to stop now, “I am a slave—your slave. I do not— _ should not _ —have needs, wants. I am.. I’m only here to be used at your convenience, master.”

The frown was far more pronounced now. “You can’t seriously believe that.”

Believe what? He’d only been speaking the truth. There was nothing to believe or disbelieve; it was simply a statement. However, Tom was in no shape or form going to argue  _ against _ his master, and therefore did the best solution. “Apologies, master.”

Potter stared at him for a few moments with an indecipherable expression, and it did nothing to make Tom feel any better about the situation.

Eventually, the awkward silence was broken, Potter looking away with a sigh. “You know what? I’ll deal with..  _ this..  _ Later.”

Later? What does he mean by ‘later’? Had Tom done something wrong? Well, obviously—slaves weren’t supposed to argue with their masters. They weren’t supposed to speak more than necessary. He should’ve just agreed with his master about the world domination idea; none of this would’ve happened and Potter would have an excellent excuse to punish him later.

Later.. Was that what he meant by later? The first punishment?

Tom both hoped and dreaded it. On one hand, it would mean that his idea of the ‘getting sent back to the Ministry as punishment’ would be wrong, but on the other hand..

On the other hand, Tom was not going to enjoy whatever happened. He still hasn’t figured out whether Potter would go for pain or humiliation. Perhaps a mix of both? He would normally think Potter would prefer humiliation, but..

_ ‘You know, if I agree to this, you’ve got a  _ **_lot_ ** _ to make up for, and I’ll make sure you pay for every single bit of it.’ _

The idea of pain didn’t seem too far fetched, really.

Despite Tom’s thoughts, Potter continued talking. “For now, be ready to leave in fifteen minutes. We’ll walk down to the village. Like I said, there should be clothes and everything in the room.”

And what was there to do but agree? “Yes, master. May I be dismissed?”

“Sure.”

Tom stood up, bowing his head once more in respect before leaving Harry sitting alone in the kitchen.

. . . . .

“Before I forget to mention,” his master started on their walk to the village, Tom trailing along a couple paces behind silently, “When we are in the village, do not act as if I’m your master, or that you are a slave. Just- Pretend we’re friends or roommates or something.”

That made sense. If the village was of muggles, then they wouldn’t understand what the Right of Conquest was or how it worked. Tom would only be making the situation worse for Potter by acting like his slavery status demanded.

“Yes, master.” A thought popped into his head, making Tom clench his fists just a bit tighter as he realized that he’d have to ask. “.. Master.. If.. If we’re supposedly..  _ friends _ .. then.. What should I call you?”

To Tom’s relief, Potter didn’t look upset at the question, instead pondering before answering, “Well, I suppose just Harry. It would be strange if you referred to me as ‘Potter’ when we’re supposed to be friends.”

“Yes, master. Thank you, master.” Tom didn’t quite know what he was thanking Potter for, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

His master glanced back, giving Tom a weird look, but didn’t say anything else. 

Soon, the village came into view, only about a ten minute walk from the house. It was.. It was definitely  _ quaint _ , Tom would describe, looking like it was straight out of a medieval book. The buildings were all cobblestone, though they looked sturdy enough, and the pathways were made of dirt with an array of flowers growing all around. Farther down, Tom could see stalls full of fresh fruit and vegetables, being sold at what looked like an open market. And for all that he knew of muggle technology, there didn’t seem to be much of it here.

They continued walking into the market, a small crowd of cheerful people soon surrounding them as the bustle of the day continued. Tom took in the details around him, how for all that the buildings looked old, the people’s clothes were fairly modern. How even a strong breeze of wind didn’t even make the fire of a candle flicker. How some of the people seemed to be trying a bit too hard to be human, teeth a bit too sharp or features shifting a bit too much.

“.. Mas-  _ Harry, _ ” Tom corrected himself, suddenly a bit concerned. His voice was no louder than a quiet murmur, but Potter turned around anyway. “Is this.. Is this a muggle village?”

Harry gave Tom a strange look. “Of course. I mean, I know they’re a bit behind the times, but so is the wizarding world, so. Come on, I think I see some delicious-looking tomatoes over there.”

Maybe it was all just his imagination? Tom doesn’t really remember what being human is like, after being..  _ Voldemort. _ For all that his body is his, it still feels like a puppet some of the time.

“Hiya, Harry! What can I do for you today- Oh, who’s your new partner?!” Tom is broken out of his thoughts by the young girl who was running the stall. Long brown hair, a cheerful demeanor,  _ teeth a bit too sharp, _ and nails that looked just a tad like claws, and scars covering her body, some old, some new. A- A werewolf?

Potter’s smile was softer than Tom has ever seen, not that he’s had many chances to see. “This is Tom. He’s my new roommate. Tom, this is Claire—she’s the one who showed me around the village when I first came here.”

.. Did Harry know that she’s a werewolf? Surely he must.

Well, it wasn’t any of Tom’s concern. He’s not going to be the one to bring it up. “It’s nice to meet you, miss.”

She stared at him for a minute with a dubious expression, making Tom wonder what he’d done. Had they met before? 

“Harry, you’re new roommate is unfairly hot. Both of you are, actually.”

.. What.

“I’m afraid your beloved may have some words about that,” Harry replied with a small laugh.

The girl—Claire—waved him off. “Ehh, I think she’d understand where I’m coming from. But what can I get for ya? We’ve got some  _ great _ tomatoes today!”

“Yes, I saw them from all the way across the market.” Harry continued talking with the girl for the next few minutes, getting lost in the conversation. 

Tom zoned out a bit, glancing around to all of the other people. Were  _ any _ of them human?? Did his master know?? Was he truly that oblivious, or was it the denial fueling his refusal to see anything more.

Suddenly, his leg—and stomach—is accosted, causing him to stumble a bit. He held back the urge to kick whatever it was, and was thankful he did, because the accoster turned out to be a little girl. Merlin, that was far too close to ending terribly for Tom’s (newly acquainted) sanity.

“Excuse me,” he mumbled, sidestepping away from the girl.

The girl had curly brown hair parted into two pigtails and bright brown eyes, and was wearing some well-worn jeans and a green t-shirt. She couldn’t have been older than twelve, perhaps around the age of first years at Hogwarts.

She looked up into his face, gasping at what, Tom realized, was probably his horrifyingly red eyes—the eyes of a monster, if Tom had ever seen one. He waited for the insulting retort, or perhaps even screaming if he were unlucky-

“Your eyes are so pretty!”

That.. That had not been what he was expecting. “.. Thank you?”

The child ran off without another word, leaving Tom staring blankly at what happened. Soon enough, his master finished up shopping, looking as if he’d hit a couple other stands while Tom was spaced out. His arms were full of bags, no doubt full of fresh fruit and veggies.

“Oh, here you are.” Tom wanted to retort that he hadn’t moved more than a step, but refrained. “Come on, the clothing store is over this way.”

There were a couple people who deemed to wish Harry a good morning, but for the most part, they were left alone on their short walk to the shop. Despite being made of cobblestone, as was the rest of the town, it, thankfully, seemed to have plenty of modern-looking clothes in it. Not that Tom really has a choice in what he wore, but he’d definitely prefer the style to be sometime from this century.

They entered the store, which had a little bell that jingled as the door opened. Nobody was at the counter at the moment, probably farther in the back, and from what Tom could see, there were no wizarding clothes anywhere in sight.

“Go choose a couple outfits you’d like, though make sure you check them over with me first,” Potter ordered offhandedly. “Don’t forget about socks and shoes and the like—I’d prefer not to repeat this any time soon.”

And with nobody in sight, Tom replied with, “Yes, master.” As always, he was nothing more than a burden for his master, and supposed he should be infinitely grateful his master was even letting him  _ wear _ clothes, much less  _ choose _ which ones he wanted, but he couldn’t help but wonder.. What would Potter want in return for this? Surely he wanted  _ something _ , for Tom to be in his debt even more than he already was, but Tom couldn’t even guess at what it would be. He supposed he’d find out eventually, if Potter didn’t just  _ take _ what was rightfully his in the first place.

He spent the next few minutes looking around the shop for things he could wear, eventually finding some shirts of different colors and a couple pairs of pants that wouldn’t cut off circulation when he kneeled. The shop’s clerk had come back to the front and was in a conversation with Potter about something Tom didn’t bother listening in on.

The clerk looked like a normal human boy, for all that he probably wasn’t. Tom was definitely starting to doubt that anybody in this town was human, and he wondered what that meant for him and his master. Tom supposed he didn’t really count as human anymore, whether through the actions he took as Voldemort,  _ being _ Voldemort, or simply because he was a slave and no longer had human rights. Potter, on the other hand.. Potter was human, though.. He’d been able to get up after death. He’d  _ died _ , and then brushed it off and nothing more than an inconvenience.

There were definitely very specific circumstances surrounding that time, but.. If it happened once, who’s to say it wouldn't happen again? 

Tom grabbed a pair of shoes, adding them to his precariously balanced pile on his arms, then made his way over to where his master and the clerk were still chatting.

“I’ve finished, Ma- Harry,” Tom corrected himself, now that they were in the presence of someone else. It felt strange calling him something other than Potter or Master, Tom noted. His arms were starting to get tired from carrying the stuff, even though he’d only chosen the barest minimum of things, not wanting to get on his master’s bad side any more than he already was.

Both the clerk, who still looked just as human up front, and his master turned to look at him. Tom fought back a grimace at the attention. Potter looked through the clothes, then with a shrug said, “Looks good to me. Alright, Marco, we’re ready to check out.”

Marco, the clerk, matched with another shrug, and gestured for Tom to deposit his small pile on the counter. After scanning through all of the clothes, he revealed the total, which Tom vowed to memorize and somehow find a way to pay back one day. Potter paid without a second of hesitation, then handed the bags of clothes back to Tom for him to carry.

The weight felt heavier, somehow, after learning the price.

Back in the streets, his master glanced around at the nearby buildings. “Alright, we’ve only got a couple more stops.”

They headed over to one of the cobblestone buildings, this one with a small wooden sign hanging by the door with a pair of scissors carved intricately into it. A.. barber shop? They were getting haircuts?

As they stepped inside, Tom looked around apprehensively. Though it was a bit small, there seemed to be nothing out of the ordinary for a barber shop, as far as he knew. There were bottles filled with different substances lining the wall and a couple giant mirrors on another. A couple extra chairs were placed to the side, and any tools needed for cutting hair were on a countertop connecting to the mirrors.

Really, even the man that seemed to own the store looked right in place, with his short, but styled, grey hair and clothes that reminded Tom of his childhood. He seemed human enough at first glance, and quite delighted to see his master at that, but there was something about him that didn’t settle right with Tom..

“Oh, Mr. Harry! I was wondering when you were going to make an appearance,” the man spoke, and Tom vaguely wondered if he was younger or older than him.

“Hi, Mr. Von,” His master waved, looking younger somehow, under the gaze of the old man. “I was wondering if you could give my new roommate here a quick haircut.”

The man, Mr. Von, turned his attention onto Tom. “A new friend, I see?”

Tom tried to put on his charming facade, the one that had gotten him through his years at Hogwarts and more. “Hello, Mr. Von, it’s a pleasure to meet you. My name is Tom—I just moved in with Harry, actually, so he’s showing me around town.”

Mr. Von chuckled a bit, gesturing for Tom to sit down in one of the main chairs next to the counter. Tom followed the suggestion, sitting down before glancing at his master.

Potter gave him a strange look, then turned back towards Mr. Von with a small smile. “Thank you. I’ve got to go stop at one more place, so I’ll be back in a little while.”

Mr. Von waved Potter goodbye as he slipped back through the door, and then turned his full attention onto Tom. And immediately, the mood surrounding the shop changed from something homely into something a bit..  _ Less _ . The lights seemed to dim and the sunlight disappeared behind clouds, and the gaze that had spoken of experience now screamed  _ power _ .

“A Right of Conquest is quite a drastic step to take, Mr. Tom.”

Tom felt the dread seep into him. “How-”

“I haven’t seen one of those in  _ quite _ a few years, if I do say so myself,” the man chuckled, seemingly to himself. He watched Tom tense, glancing at the door as if wondering if he’d make out if things turned sour. “Apologies, I didn’t mean to startle you. Allow me to formally introduce myself.”

Tom gripped the chair just a bit tighter, knowing there wasn’t much he could do if things went badly. He couldn’t fight, it was doubtful he could flee, and even if he  _ did _ find a way out, then he would have to deal with his master’s disappointment, because Tom has orders and it’s not a  _ choice _ whether or not to obey.

The man did a mock bow, “My name is Von, and I am the god of the lost.”

Oh, now Tom was just being messed with. His tense posture deflated somewhat upon the absurd claim, but Tom’s mind was still screaming  _ danger! _ and that was enough reason to not immediately claim his statement false.

But.. what if he  _ wasn’t _ lying?

Another slight chuckle, seeing Tom’s emotions warring within himself. “Young Harry does not know, but then again, he doesn’t want to believe this town is anything more than normal. You will see him find peace in his denial, as accepting this town as more than an ordinary town means he has to accept things about himself that he can not yet accept.”

Tom finally found his voice, swallowing a couple times to clear out the sudden dryness. “You- You claim to be a god?”

“Why, yes. I created this town many years ago, our little Alverron. This town.. It is a place for people who do not have a place in the world, who are lost and need to find a home. It is a place for those who have been abandoned or who have lost their place in the universe,” he explained. “Alverron exists between time, between dimensions, and will continue to provide what the world has deemed to deny them.”

“Then.. why.. How did my- my master find this place? Your..  _ town?” _ Tom was quite sure that Potter had a place in the world—no one would dare abandon their savior. He was sure Potter had friends and had made himself a family in the redheaded family, with his muggleborn friends, with the people who had stood by his side during the war.

As if reading his thoughts (could he do that??), the man replied, “Harry is running away.” Von, a  _ god, _ was apparently still continuing on with the haircut and messed around with Tom’s hair, who couldn’t help but flinch at the light touches. “He does not know who he is, and the wizarding world is no place for him to learn. They have wronged him many  _ many _ times, and still they try to mold him into their idea of a savior without truly seeing who he is. They would never allow him to be himself. Harry is running from the world that has refused to let him exist, and he is running from himself.”

“From  _ himself?” _ Tom questioned, just as the first snip of his hair fell to the floor. It had long since overgrown at the Ministry, and they hadn’t deigned any care towards the length of his hair.

A few more snips, then, “He is learning of truths he does not wish to learn, and he is putting together ideas for a puzzle that have long since been there, but are finally connecting.”

“Do you speak in anything but riddles?” Tom snapped, then immediately regretted it.

Luckily, Von didn’t seem upset. “You are not an exception either, Mr. Tom.”

_ Snip, snip, snip. _

“.. what?”

“This town collects those who are lost, and you are no different from the rest of them. Your kingdom built on lies has fallen, and now you are trying to find yourself in a world desperate to forget your reign.”

Tom clenched his jaw, only just barely accepting the statement. “I have no need to  _ ‘find myself’ _ , not anymore.”

“Nonsense! Now that you are free of your lies, you are finally able to be yourself with Harry.”

Tom couldn’t help but let out a huff of a laugh, a small smile that only matched his sardonic thoughts. “Be myself? Being  _ myself _ led to the deaths of everyone Potter has ever cared about. Nobody has ever liked it when I’ve  _ been myself _ . You need some better advice, old man.”

A sharp tug in a sensitive spot of his hair reminded Tom very quickly of their positions. He was in no position to be snapping at anyone, most definitely not an apparent  _ god. _ Much less an apparent god who was on good terms with  _ his master. _

“.. Apologies, sir. I meant no disrespect,” he forced out, the words coating his tongue.

Von was most definitely going to tell Potter about his minor explosion, and really, what was one more misdeed at this point? What was one more punishment? It wasn’t going to change anything. He was already regretting every decision he’s ever made, this was nothing different.

“It is okay to get upset, otherwise you’ll bottle up your emotions. And, I always find that emotions find their way out at the most inconvenient times, when you do that.”

Tom had no response for that.

“This town was created for people to find themselves. Find who they are,” Von continued. “And your place is right next to Harry.”

And suddenly, Tom felt tired. Not in the sense of wanting a nap, but deep in his soul. There was no anger, no hatred, just.. Emptiness. A deep sorrow that would never truly leave. It is him accepting his new place in life, because there’s no other option.

“I hope you’re right.”

. . . . .

Harry slipped out of the shop, feet already walking towards his final stop. He hoped it would be alright, leaving Tom with Mr. Von, but he doubted Tom would seize the opportunity to terrify an old man, and he doubted Tom would take the first opportunity to run. Would he spin some sort of tale of Harry abusing him? Get the town against him? It wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened.

He remembered what he decided this morning—he would trust Tom until he proved otherwise, no matter how bad of an idea that seemed to be.

Plus, if Harry knew anything about Tom Riddle, it was that he didn’t act impulsively. He would probably want to think things through, have a thorough plan, before trying anything drastic. Hopefully.

Harry opened the door to the shop, shifting the groceries (under a featherlight charm) to his other hand. He wasn’t familiar with the middle-aged woman running the store, having no reason to come in here before now. At the moment, she was skimming through a magazine for beauty products, so Harry decided to leave her be and look around himself.

For a town in the middle of nowhere, they sure were well-stocked out here.

It was kind of ironic, really, that the next time Harry would visit a pet store would be for Voldemort. He was the reason Harry lost his last  best friend pet.

He meandered around for a while, looking at the different selection of foods, toys, collars and leashes, and whatever else. There were no actual animals, though he knows many of the townspeople have different pets or animals of their own.

Harry was personally thinking of getting chickens, eventually, but hasn’t really dedicated any time to that idea yet.

.. Perhaps Tom would like taking care of them?

That was an interesting thought, for sure, but Harry wasn’t quite sure he trusted Tom Riddle with any living quite yet.

Instead, he looked through what he came here for, and even somehow convinced himself to grab a couple extra things. Perhaps this wasn’t the correct shop for the things he might need, but he’s also a  _ wizard. _ If Harry truly needed something, he had hundreds of spells at his disposal—surely there was  _ one _ that would get him what he needed.

He made his final decision after a few moments of consideration. He grabbed the items, paid, and was out the door in less than two minutes after he’d decided, not giving himself enough time to doubt himself. 

Truly a Gryffindor way of thinking, if Harry says so himself.

On the walk back to the barber shop, Harry shrunk the bag and stuffed it in his pocket—there was no reason for Tom to wonder and worry about what he might’ve gotten. And Tom wouldn’t need to know unless he disobeyed.

For surely it would be some sort of punishment for him, if Harry forced him to wear a collar claiming Harry’s power over him. Harry was actually quite proud of finding a small tag that he liked, just big enough for him to engrave his name on it. And the last object was for true punishments, and would hopefully never be used—a leash that could be clipped on to the collar.

Yeah, Harry thought, it was probably best to hide them, lest Tom get the wrong idea too quickly. Merlin knows what he had to go through with the Ministry, and Harry had no plans to ever use the metal band they had used.

He entered the barber shop once again, quickly noticing the change in atmosphere. Both Tom and Mr. Von were there, but the haircut had apparently already finished, and Tom was reading one of the magazines piled up to the size, while Mr. Von was cleaning up after the process.

Harry tried not to let himself stare at his slave for too long, but  _ how in the world did a haircut make him so much hotter????? _ That had to be some sort of illegal. How was that even possible?? Every time Harry got a haircut, it grew back exactly the same length it was now, nor did his hair ever really grow, so he’d given up with haircuts a while back. (Surely it couldn’t still be because of accidental magic? Was he really still doing that for his  _ hair?) _

“You- uh,” Harry swallowed to clear the sudden dryness in his throat, “You- It looks great. Thank you, Mr. Von. I hope he didn’t cause you any problems.”

At that, Tom tensed, the pages creasing under his tight hold.

So something  _ had _ happened, Harry mused.

Mr. Von, however, just waved him off. “Oh, it was no trouble at all. We found a shared interest in antiques!”

Harry huffed out a response, remembering each of the horcruxes. “Yeah, that sounds like Tom.” He dug through his wallet for the correct amount, handing it to Mr. Von.

Tom stood stiffly, putting the book back on the pile and walking towards Harry as if on autopilot. “Thank you for your time, sir. I agree that the haircut looks quite nice.” His polite tone was only betrayed by the dull red color of his eyes.

.. What in the world was that about? Well, no matter.

“Bye, Mr. Von. I’ll come visit next time I’m in town,” Harry smiled. He truly did enjoy Mr. Von’s company, no matter if his age was closer to Dumbeldore’s, or even  _ Tom’s,  _ who, for his looks, was actually a good 50 years older than him. Which was still kinda weird to think about.

Sure, Mr. Von was kind of weird, in his own way, but he seemed to be the unofficial leader for the village, and despite his age, he always seemed willing to help anybody in need, and that was something Harry could respect. His smiles and even the twinkle in his eyes sometimes set Harry off, reminding him just a bit too much of Dumbledore—how he would always look like he knew something important and didn’t bother to share it with Harry, but.. Despite all of that, Harry genuinely did like Mr. Von.

Tom grabbed his bags of clothes he’d set to the side, and they were out the door on their way home, back up the gravel path that led out of town into his little house on the edge of the woods.

Harry was very glad to have found this town.

. . . . .

About halfway through their walk, Harry had finally taken pity on Riddle, who kept minutely shifting the bags from one hand to another to distribute the weight. With a small wave of his hand and a quiet murmur, prompting a confused glance from Tom, the bags now had their own featherlight charm on them, just like the bags Harry was carrying.

Tom, of course, noticed the difference immediately, now able to hold all of the bags in only one hand without much difficulty, other than the awkward size. “Thank you for your kindness, master,” he acknowledged, though his tone was void of emotion and barely louder than a mumble.

He’d been like this since they’d left the barber shop—unusually quiet and polite, even for the new submissive Tom Riddle. It was.. Disconcerting, to say the least. On the quick glances Harry was able to catch, the dim red of his eyes, so dark they could almost be mistaken for brown, had never once lightened. And what had Tom said earlier..?

_ “I don’t- I have no desire to rule anymore. But no, none of my.. wants.. Are physical objects, master. And, well,” Tom had hesitated for a moment, before seeming to come to a decision to continue, “I am a slave—your slave. I do not—should not—have needs, wants. I am.. I’m only here to be used at your convenience, master.” _

He couldn’t seriously think like that, could he? Has he truly accepted the fact he was now a slave and just..  _ Assumed the worst? _ Tom Riddle had been the most ambitious person Harry had ever met, and for him to just.. give all of that up, it was worrisome.

Harry should probably sit down with Tom at some point, and perhaps give him a goal to work towards. Some sort of difficult task to accomplish, whether it be a new spell or a ritual or even a  _ puzzle. _ Harry would hate living life without any kind of goal, no sense of accomplishment, and so he can only imagine how bad it would be for Tom Riddle, the most devoted person he knows.

Harry doesn’t claim to know Tom Riddle well. He saw a few memories of him as a child, he was able to speak with the diary for a while, and he’s shared a few dreams (nightmares) with Voldemort, but.. If there was one thing he  _ did _ know about Tom Riddle, it was that when he’s made up his mind, he’ll give it 110%, going up and over to achieve his intention. He doesn’t do things halfway.

But.. now he’s apparently decided to be Harry’s slave. Whether it was to get out of a bad situation, or if it was carefully thought out, Tom has made up his mind, supposedly. And from what Harry could see, Tom was trying his best to be his idea of a “perfect slave”.

Did Tom’s idea of a “perfect slave” involve him never acting out, never disobeying, just.. shoving down his entire personality, thinking it would only bring problems?

Harry would never admit it (okay, maybe he would), but he actually really enjoyed Tom’s fiery personality. It was.. Refreshing, having somebody to talk to. He’d loved talking with the diary, no matter how many lies the horcrux had hidden under. He liked the sharp retorts, Tom’s quick thinking, no matter the situation, the sarcastic drawl when hearing something stupid.

But those memories were now tainted by Tom begging to be a slave, thinking Harry would refuse to give him food, the quiet acceptance that Harry had seen looming over him—that he’d recognized his place as a slave, and was just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Even now, the small grimace that made its way to Harry’s lips from his thoughts caused Tom to tense slightly, his walking turning just a bit more mechanical and his face to slip into a neutral mask, jaw clenched shut.

However, they reached the house only a moment later, and Harry was saved from the awkwardness that had draped around them like an unwanted sticky cobweb. They entered through the door and Harry let out a dramatic sigh as the door finally clicked shut. While he likes the village, he’s had enough socialization for the next few days. It was tiring, interacting with people constantly; he doesn’t get how Tom was able to do it for years upon years during his Hogwarts days. Harry would’ve murdered at least four people.

_ Oh wait- _

He asked Tom to put his clothes up in his room and then meet him in the kitchen. With fresh groceries still in their bags, now was a perfect time to teach Tom where everything in the kitchen goes, especially since Harry has a very specific system.

Tom did as asked  (ordered) and met him in the kitchen only a minute later, with perfectly silent footsteps to match the fact he hasn’t made a sound since his quiet “thank you” from earlier.

“Okay, I’ve got a fairly specific system for my kitchen, so please don’t mess it up. He opened the fridge, placing the items in their specific spots. “The fresh fruit goes in this bottom drawer, except bananas, which will go on the counter over there if I ever get any. The vegetables go in the drawer above it, and make sure you don’t squish anything. This shelf is for-” Harry continued explaining his method of organization, and once all of the groceries were put away, he started showing Tom where the different dishes and utensils went. “So the bowls are on this shelf, and the cups go on this one. You can stack them three high, and the plates will go on the bottom shelf over here. Here’s the silverware drawer, not to be confused with the spatulas and serving spoons and all that, which go in this container.”

As he explained where everything went, Tom put the (now dry) dishes he’d washed earlier away without prompting, looking at Harry for approval after everything.

“Like I said earlier, I don’t mind if you want to try cooking, but as a warning, I do combine a lot of muggle and magical means to cook, so perhaps don’t use anything unless you’re sure how they work. If we run out of any ingredients, you can write them on the list hanging on the fridge. I usually take it along when I go shopping, but didn’t really feel the need today, since we were only going to Alverron,” Harry rambled. “Usually when I need more specific stuff, I’ll go down to the city for my shopping, but Alverron is good for fresh fruits and vegetables.”

Harry walked back into the sitting room, now that the groceries were all put away, Tom following like always. “I’ve got to do a bit more studying—I’m hoping to take my NEWTs soon, and I’ve got a year of material to catch up on. You can do what you wish, whether it be taking a nap or returning to your book or whatever else.”

“Is-” Tom started, stopped as suddenly as he’d started, lowering his eyes to the ground by Harry’s feet. “Is there anything you require me to do, master?”

Harry pretended the overly-polite and submissive tone didn’t bother him, figuring Tom would eventually snap back to his normal self soon. Hopefully. “Hm.. Not at the moment, really. I mean, unless you want to dust everything off,” he muttered sarcastically. Note the “sarcastically”.

“As you wish, master.” Was the immediate reply. “Where would I find the supplies to do so?”

That’s right, Harry remembered, Tom doesn’t have any of his magic. He’d have to do everything the muggle way.

Harry resisted the urge to sigh. “I- I was being sarcastic.”

There was no response from Tom, other than the clenching of his fists.

“If you  _ really _ want to, there’s cleaning supplies in the closet over there.” Harry vaguely gestured to one of the doors across the hall. “Make sure you read the warning labels if you use any chemicals, though. Mix the wrong two and you can kill someone pretty easily. Anyways, there should be a duster in there, on the top shelf I believe.”

“Yes, master.”

Harry was really quite sure he offered to let Tom read or nap or literally anything else, but instead he chooses to  _ clean?? _ Merlin, Harry really was in over his head when he accepted this deal, wasn’t he?

And without another word, Tom found the duster and started cleaning off all of the, well, dusty things in the room. There wasn’t much, to be fair, but Tom always seemed to find something new to clean just as Harry thought there couldn’t be  _ anything else. _

Finally, after painstaking minutes of watching Tom learn how to use a muggle duster and proceed to find and clean everything in the room—and thus, distracting Harry from ever studying a single thing—he finally moved onto the floo, which was arguably the dustiest thing in the entire house, considering it was in a fireplace and worked through throwing dust into said fireplace.

And just as Harry is about to speak up, to say he really doesn’t have to clean the floo, seeing as the duster hates the fireplace anyways, it lights up a bright green. Tom startled away from the sudden fire, sending a panicked look Harry’s way that screamed  _ “I didn’t do it!” _

A voice echoes through the living room, familiar in a way that makes Harry smile unconsciously. “Harry, I’m coming through!”

Another moment, and Hermione is stepping out of the green flames, looking rightfully determined about something. Glancing behind her, Harry watched Tom notice the new layer of dust flying from the fireplace and spreading through the room with a look of contempt and deadpan stare, as if saying “this might as well happen”, forcing Harry to hold back a laugh.

He forced himself to focus again on Hermione, who luckily hadn’t noticed Harry’s moment of distraction, nor anyone else in the room. “Not that I don’t like being visited, but this was quite sudden. Is something wrong?”

“Harry,” she started, taking three strides forward with her eyes flaring in determination. Before continuing, she stopped, taking a deep breath to calm herself. “Apparently, our favorite Dark Lord has enacted the Right of Conquest with you.”

Ah, yes. That.

“Yeah, I- uh, I know.” He pointed behind her with a sardonic smile.

She turned around, eyes falling on Tom Riddle holding a duster and looking two seconds from bolting. There are a few moments of silence, where nobody speaks, before Hermione replied, “Ah, so you do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The babies...... they are pure.........


End file.
